


Ghosts: Not Only Real, But Also Probably Stealing Your Boyfriend Right Now

by LandOfMistAndSecrets



Series: Dirk/Jake/BGD [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, its exactly what it god damn looks like, let me live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-10-31 16:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10902909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LandOfMistAndSecrets/pseuds/LandOfMistAndSecrets
Summary: Or, hope is a thing that all men should have in their hearts. But not too much. Because then, well. Then you get ghosts.(In which Dirk and Jake dance indelicately around an embarrassing matter for far too many words, hurt each other's feelings, hurt a ghost's feelings, and just generally make a fine mess out of everything.)





	1. a heap of barmy bullshit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ayyyy (RosaAquafire)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosaAquafire/gifts).



Dirk isn't used to being woken up by the sound of voices. 

He shifts beneath the sheets and blinks up at the ceiling, a little furrow digging between his brows. He can hear the sea, but it's too far off, faint and distant and he remembers in a rush of startled clarity that _home_ is something different, now. Something better. He slides an arm out over to Jake's side of the bed and finds it empty. There are voices coming from the other room. Visitors? Dirk rubs his eyes. It's some fucking absurd hour of the night, late enough that you could pretty much call it morning, instead, and they have visitors. Well, of course. This is what happens when all your friends and family scatter to settle down at opposite ends of the fucking earth, and also, at least one kingdom in that earth keeps nocturnal hours. 

"...probably think it's a heap of barmy bullshit, actually," Jake's voice rises a little in volume, briefly clarifying his words, and Dirk frowns. "You know how he is!" 

Dirk isn't one hundred percent sure that he's the subject of this conversation, but the exasperation in Jake's voice as he says this is pretty telling. His frown deepens. A part of him wants to just keep laying here, straining his ears and picking up more details. Another, better part of him rolls its eyes and says _that's eavesdropping, idiot, and doing it would pretty much make you an asshole, so don't._ It half sounds like Roxy in his head. He sighs. Whoever it is, they're god damn right, so he heaves himself up out of bed, pulls on a shirt, and prepares to go crash the party. 

Except that when he opens the door, making sure to do so loudly enough to announce his presence to the room, Jake is just sitting there at the kitchen table Jane insisted they put there, alone. He has his elbows up on the surface of it and his cheek squished against one hand, and he's got these high pinkish spots blooming on his gloriously scruffy brown cheeks that curiously suggest he's either embarrassed or excited or both. His hair is sticking out in every direction, an absolutely goddamn parody of bedhead, and Dirk runs a self-conscious hand through his own hair, waving awkwardly with the other. Fuck. 

"Sorry," he says, eyes darting around the otherwise empty room. "Thought I heard voices." It wouldn't have been the first time he's caught Jake talking to himself. Hell, he does it himself, sometimes. Remnants of a lonely upbringing, or whatever.

"You did?" Jake leans forward, and his glasses slip dangerously down his nose. "Wait -- who? Who else did you hear?" 

Dirk blinks at him. "Just you, bro. I mean. Was there someone else?" 

Jake exhales noisily, lifting his head off his hand and waving the latter at him in casual dismissal. It isn't fooling fucking anyone, least of all Dirk. "Psh, of course not. Who in blazes would be swinging by this old rock at this time of night?" He pushes his glasses back up, and Dirk watches his eyes trace patterns in the table. Something fucking weird is going on, here. "Obviously not." 

"Jake," Dirk begins, brows furrowed. Jake cuts him off by pushing his chair back and standing. The squealing sound the chair makes as it scrapes over the stone floor makes Dirk's teeth ache.

"Say," Jake says, grinning. "Never mind that. Sorry for waking you. But now that you're up, maybe we should, hm, I dunno." He affects a theatrical thinking pose, smirking in this knowing way that brings all the gears grinding around in Dirk's head to an abrupt stop. Shit. _Fuck._ This isn't fair. What the fuck is anyone supposed to do with a Jake English who has learned to wield his appeal like a tactical, brain-melting weapon? 

"You don't know," Dirk repeats, stupidly. _Who the fuck was he talking to?_ he thinks, but the thought comes from far away. He packs it up. Later. 

"Maybe we should take advantage of that? Seems a little silly to toss an opportunity out on its ear," Jake grins, and Dirk folds his arms over his chest, because he has to at least let Jake know that _he_ knows what he's doing before he invariably gives in. 

"You're trying to distract me," he says. Jake's eyebrows go up.

"Is it working?"

"Of course it's fucking working," Dirk sighs. "But it won't work forever. I'm gonna remember this, man. There's going to be questions, later. Suspicions. I--" 

"We'll see about that," Jake says, and then he's taking off his shirt, advancing, and most of the breath leaves Dirk's body in one pathetically audible little _oh._ Jake tilts his face in, his lips finding Dirk's, and effortlessly steals the rest. 

* 

The next morning, the mystery seems less pressing to solve. Days pass, and each one that goes by makes it easier to put the incident out of his mind. He still catches Jake talking to himself, sometimes. They both pretend otherwise. 

And then, the dream. 

Dirk's dreams are usually strange and unfocused, rarely remembered. More snippets of thoughts and impressions than anything concrete, leaving him at most with lingering referred feelings. 

But this one is different. It snaps half into focus, and he's outside on a bench at the base of the tower he and Jake have lived in for months. His legs are transparent. Hell, his whole fucking body is. There's someone next to him, warm and solid, and he knows without looking that it's Jake. What is this? It's night, but the blue moon is massive in the sky, washing everything in its reflected glow. 

"I'm surprised you even think you need me anymore," Dirk's dream mouth is saying with his voice, his tongue and teeth and lips forming the words and pushing them out wholly independent of his thoughts. A wave of dizziness washes over him. What is this? _Who_ is this, wearing his incorporeal dream body like it's some sort of convenient suit? 

Jake makes a thoughtful noise. "Maybe it isn't _need_ , exactly," he says. 

"Then what?" 

"Can't you answer that yourself?" Jake elbows him, pinning him with this wolfish grin, and Dirk's dream self who isn't really him but isn't really _not_ chuckles ruefully, a depth of honesty in the sound that Dirk wants to cringe away from -- but he can't, because he's tethered to this body just as thoroughly as whatever's controlling it is. Faint surprise trickles down into his awareness. Somehow he knows that Jake's elbow should have passed right through him. He shouldn't have felt anything at all. He looks down at his legs, and they seem more solid than before. There's this terrifying sensation of his own consciousness shrinking as whatever this _other_ thing is crowds him out.

"All right. I'm surprised you think you _want_ me, anymore." Whatever this thing is, it's definitely flirting with his boyfriend, now. Sheer stubbornness keeps Dirk hanging on, a tenuous passenger in his own weird fucking increasingly less incorporeal but still definitely not fucking real body. 

"I always wanted you," Jake sighs, and Dirk wants to yell, wants to scream, _this isn't me, Jake, whatever the fuck this is, it's not actually me,_ but there's a part of him that thinks Jake _knows_ that, and -- what to do with that? It's crushing him, that knowledge. Or maybe that's just the sensation of being squeezed out of a consciousness that he doesn't belong in. "I didn't always _know_ , but I think I always did. Which makes no damn sense whatsoever, but you get it, right?" 

"And what about the other guy?" 

"The other --" Jake startles, and then he laughs, rich and warm. "Well, what do _you_ think, wise guy?" 

"I think I'm a needless complication, and I'm afraid I'm going to ruin everything for you and him both. But, on the other hand..." Dirk feels his phantom body flex his fingers, toes. He rolls his shoulders, and something pops. He grins. "Times like this, I feel like the risk might be worth it. But I fucking _know_ it's not. And so do you." 

"I'll tell him. I swear I will! I will. I'll tell him... someday." 

"Nah. Man, you know I believe in you, as a general rule. But this? You won't." A pause. "You're just hoping he'll stumble into it on his own. Force you into it." Dirk feels the suffocating weight of the phantom consciousness focus in on him, pinning him down like it knows he's there, hitching a ride like a fucking flea on his own splintered soul. "You're hoping _really_ hard, right now, aren't you? Huh." 

And then the phantom flicks him off, and he's spinning, spiralling back into the nebulous soup of his own subconscious. His _real_ subconscious. 

He jolts awake, and his jaw aches, and the dream is crystal clear. 

Jake is gone, and Dirk knows if he went looking, he'd probably find him on a bench outside. But he's a coward, and he's too afraid to get up and look. He just lays there, heart racing, turning it all over and over again in his mind until enough time passes that Jake sneaks back in, socked feet whisper-quiet on the floor. The bed creaks when he climbs back in. 

It's fucking crazy, right? It's crazy to think that any of that was real.

Jake scoots close to him under the sheets, sliding his arm over Dirk's chest, and Dirk just lays there, breathing. 

The dream doesn't fade. 

* 

Jake can tell that something's up. It's written all over his body language, the hesitant gap between him deciding to say something and actually saying it. Breakfast is brief and awkward. 

"You look tired," Jake says, waving a muffin at him. Jane sends them weekly, because she is convinced that if she doesn't, they will just wander out and eat random jungle plants instead. Dirk grunts out a non-answer. Jake frowns. 

"Didn't sleep well?" 

"Not really." 

"Any... specific reason for that, you think?" 

Dirk wonders if they went on talking after the thing -- dream self, soul splinter, whatever it was -- bounced him off. His guts turn over, and he painstakingly reminds himself that it was just a dream and also, Jane would probably be pretty fucking put out if he horfed one of her home made banana bread muffins all over the nice fucking table she practically picked out for them. 

"Weird dreams," he says, as neutrally as possible. He honestly isn't sure if he wants Jake to press him for details or just drop it and never acknowledge it again. One of those two things, though. One of those for sure. 

"Oh?" Jake puts the muffin down. He folds his hands over each other, leaning forward on his elbows. "What about?" His eyes are blinking guilessly behind his glasses, and that more than anything else is what convinces Dirk that he _knows._ Jake only puts that much effort into _looking_ innocent when he's indisputably _not._ Dirk chews on this, watching Jake silently until his gorgeous green eyes drop their gaze, his shoulders bunch and he fucking honest to God _wilts_ a little, right there at the kitchen table. Guilty about something, no doubt about it. 

Well. Fuck it. "Had a dream that my dream self was back, I guess," Dirk says. "Only he was like, independent and shit. And, uh, kind of making moves on you?" 

"Making moves on me!" Jake repeats, in this high strangled sort of voice. His cheeks are reddening by the second. 

"Kind of as in kind of _aggressively_ ," Dirk nods, studying his face. Jake's blush spreads over his nose and back to his ears, lighting them up, too. "And, don't take this the wrong way, but I think you were pretty much into it?" 

"Well! _Well._ Come on now, Dirk, cut a guy some slack! You're a compelling sort of fellow regardless of your current state of corporeality -- or, I suppose, _reality_ in general, so forgive me if I'm a bit weak to Striderian overtures of all kinds!" 

Dirk studies him, brow furrowed. "I didn't say anything about corporeality," he says. Jake's mouth opens, but he doesn't say anything. He just sort of exhales miserably and then shuts his eyes. 

"Fuck," he manages, after a second. 

"You want to tell me what's going on, man?" 

Jake's eyes don't open. "I'd _love_ to, believe me, but it's... hell, Dirk, it's a god damn doozy of a tale, and parts of it are well and truly fucked up, and the worst part is, I have no idea what you're going to think of the whole thing and it's --" His eyes pop open. He swallows heavily. Dirk's stomach fills with a familiar leaden sense of dread. His limbs all feel too heavy.

"Jake, what the fuck is going _on?_ Tell me." 

But Jake's eyes widen, instead, and his mouth snaps shut, and suddenly he's staring at something _past_ Dirk, over his shoulder. "Not _now,_ " he hisses, and Dirk stands and whirls around, adrenaline rolling like a physical chill down his back. 

But there's nothing there. 

"Can you see him?" Jake asks, and his voice is very small. 

"No," Dirk says. His heart is racing. "See _who?_ My own fucking dream phantom? Are you telling me that _you_ can see something? Because --" He cuts off there, because the air shimmers in front of him, distorting, _solidifying_. 

"Can you see him _now?_ " Jake asks. 

"Yeah," Dirk's voice says back, but it isn't coming from him. "Yeah, Jake, I think he can." 

His dream phantom is standing in their fucking kitchen, looking -- of all things -- vaguely apologetic. It shrugs, smirking in this sheepish way that is more like _Jake_ than him, but before he can think too hard about that, Jake's chair scrapes backward and he's clearing his throat. There's a little tremor in his voice when he speaks. 

"Well then!" he says. "Dirk, meet Brain Ghost Dirk. And, uh... vice versa, I guess, if that's even necessary." 

"Hey," his phantom doppleganger says. 

"What the _fuck,_ " Dirk says, phrasing it less like a question and more like a demand, and the thing winces. 

"Yeah," it says. "Yeah, I pretty much knew that's what you were going to say." 

* 

It's a splinter, of course. 

Maybe the weirdest one yet, but if Jake is telling the truth -- and at this point, there's no point in lying, so Dirk is inclined to believe him -- he's one of the oldest, too. A phantom conjured up and given unexpected _realness_ potential thanks to the combined powers of Hope and Heart. Brain Ghost Dirk, Jake calls him, and he shows up pretty much exclusively when Jake subconsciously wants or needs him to. 

Dirk is just self-aware enough to admit to himself that he finds it gratifying that this thing that has played this role in Jake's life was modeled after him. That's... nice, maybe? It's also fucking weird. Awkward. Embarrassing for him, for Jake, and probably even for the damn ghost, too.

They're sitting around the table together, and Jake is wringing his hands. Dirk can't stop staring at the ghost. It looks like him, but it isn't him -- not exactly. Jake created this thing from a specific, idealized perspective. It's wearing Dirk's clothes, a t-shirt and jeans, which is only interesting because they're the ones he was wearing on his and Jake's most recent "official" date. It's more expressive than Dirk thinks he actually is, especially its eyebrows, which are presently raised up nearly to its hairline. When it speaks, it speaks softly, calmly, relentlessly logical, like it thinks it can pretend to be a totally impartial perspective in the midst of this fucked up situation. 

"The good news is, I'm not actually real," the ghost is saying, hands up and splayed out in an apologetic gesture. "I mean, this is about as real as I get. Which might seem pretty fucking real, but it'll only last as long as Jake's powers hold out. And then, _poof._ " He drops his hands. "Back to nothing." 

"Not _nothing,_ " Jake protests. The ghost shrugs. 

"There are different levels of nonexistence, I guess," it says. "I probably never go _full_ nonexistant. But I'm no expert, or anything. I'm just kind of along for the ride." 

"And never going away," Dirk says, to clarify. He can see Jake frown from the corner of his eye. The ghost shrugs, again. 

"That would depend on Jake, probably." 

Dirk isn't sure he's ready to talk to Jake about this, but Jake takes the decision out of his hands by squaring his shoulders and sucking in a breath and addressing him directly. 

"You say that like you _want_ him gone," Jake says. He sounds kind of hurt. 

"I mean," Dirk starts, and then he falters, unsure of what exactly to say. This is fucked up. Can Jake seriously not see how _fucked up_ this is? "This is kind of fucked up," he says, since it's all he seems capable of thinking. "Like, kind of really _extremely_ fucked up, Jake." 

"I know it's strange," Jake says, deflating a little. "I damn well know that much, and for awhile, I thought that it would be better if he just..." he makes a nebulous, fluttery gesture with his hands. "Disappeared, too. I thought he would naturally, because if I had the _real_ you, all the time, what would I need Brain Ghost Dirk for, exactly?" He glances nervously at the ghost. "Sorry," he says. 

"It's cool," the ghost says, face impassive. 

"I'm curious about that, myself," Dirk says, trying to keep the hurt out of his own damn voice, now. 

"The truth is that I still need him for lots of things! Not because _you're_ not good enough, or anything, Dirk, it's just... I've been bouncing all my worst thoughts and things off of Brain Ghost Dirk for years and years, and he's like..." Jake scrunches his face up. "He helps me think things through, because he's not just partly you, he's partly me, too. And sometimes I don't like to really fess up to the things I'm really thinking. And he always sets me straight in that regard. Or tries, at least. It takes me awhile to come around, sometimes, but it's getting better. And it's not just that!" Jake licks his lips. "Okay. I thought you would understand this part, at least. The better I get with my powers, the more _real_ Brain Ghost Dirk is, right? And, you understand, don't you? How do you make the decision to just... unmake someone real, even if they're only _really_ real some of the time?" 

The question hangs there between them. The ghost shifts a little in his seat, but Jake has Dirk pinned with his gaze, now, unflinching. "I may not have known exactly what I was doing when I made him up, but I know enough now to know that _unmaking_ him would be pretty frigging fucked up, too, right?" 

"Plus," Dirk says, before he can stop himself, "You just don't want to. You like having a me that's easier to deal with around, right? The better you get with your powers, the more realistic this fantasy thing you've got going on with him gets." 

Jake slumps back in his chair. He crosses his arms. "Now you're just being an arsehole," he says. He's right, but that doesn't make Dirk feel any less shitty about just about everything. 

"So, how long before you run away together? Should I mark my fucking calendar?" 

"It's not like that," Jake says, voice flat. 

"I don't know, man, I've kinda overheard some stuff. I think it might actually be _exactly_ like that." 

"It's not," the ghost says, and Dirk whirls on him. He doesn't remember standing, but he is now. 

"No offense," Dirk says, "But maybe you should shut the fuck up and stay out of this." 

"Don't talk to Brain Ghost Dirk like that," Jake snaps. 

"I think we should all probably just take a second to calm the fuck down," the ghost says. "This is getting uncomfortably emotional, I think we can all agree." 

"Fuck off," Dirk growls. He looks from Jake to the ghost and back again. "Fucking -- Jesus, both of you, fuck off." He shoves himself away from the table and turns his back on both of them. His chest kind of hurts, and anyway, leaving is probably the most sane thing he can do, right now. If he stays he's just going to say shit he'll probably regret, later, and -- he has to think. He needs some time to fucking think about this. 

"Dirk," Jake tries to call him back, exactly once. 

"Better let him go," the ghost says, and Dirk grits his teeth. He wonders how _real_ it would be if he socked the damn thing in the jaw. 

Thoughts like that are exactly why he has to go. He slams the door behind him, because of course he does, and then he just -- goes, without even a fucking destination in mind. 

* 

He's gone for a long time, going nowhere. Morning stretches into noon and Dirk is just flying aimlessly, the island kingdom he and Jake have made a home together on sprawling out beneath him. His phone buzzes incessantly. He ignores it. Wishes he'd left it at home. If it's Jake, he can't handle that right now, and if it's anyone else, he can probably handle that even less. Eventually, the buzzing stops. He spends the afternoon sitting on the sharp cliffs of some rocky beach, watching the ocean spray until the sun sinks down over the horizon. The sky goes from blue to purple to gold and then black. Jake's greenish purple planet-moon creeps up to take the sun's place, and Dirk stares at it, arms crossed. 

He has no idea how he feels. 

The anger has sort of receded, exposing the other, worse emotions that were always there lurking underneath. Anger is easy. Anger is cathartic, distracting. But jealousy? Jealousy fucking sucks. Fear? Fear is the fucking worst. This crushing resignation is swimming around in there, too, this sense of _inevitability_. He always kind of expected Jake to outgrow him eventually. Most people move on from their childhood crushes, right? It's just that without the auto responder around, he'd stopped expecting the inevitable end to be catalyzed by one of his own goddamned fucking soul splinters. It feels like a betrayal. 

The moon is halfway across the sky by the time he decides to slink back to the tower. His phone hasn't gone off even once in hours. 

He considers just sleeping on the couch. It doesn't feel right to just _go to bed_ , though he doubts he could sleep anyway. Doubts that Jake is even there. The thought sours his stomach -- which is totally irrational, given that he's only just gotten back himself -- and he pokes his head quietly into the bedroom after all, just to see. 

And Jake is there. He's curled up in the middle of the bed, snoring softly, and Dirk's heart squeezes painfully in his chest. He just stands there, shocked stupid, watching him sleep like some kind of ridiculous creeper, until someone coughs awkwardly behind him and he spins around, knowing exactly what he's going to see a second before the actual sight registers. 

"Hey," the ghost says, lifting a hand in greeting, and dropping it a second later. Dirk grits his teeth. He steps out and shuts the bedroom door behind him. 

"Jake is sleeping," Dirk says, softly. "So how the fuck are you still standing here?" 

"A little bit of shut-eye isn't going to stop powers like those, man. I'll be here as long as he keeps believing I should be, and that's that." 

"Great." Dirk leans back until the back of his head bumps against the door, closing his eyes. Fantastic.

"I thought maybe we should take the opportunity to have a conversation." 

"Sounds like a terrible idea," Dirk says. 

"Maybe. But the alternative is we just awkwardly refuse to acknowledge one another, and I know you well enough to know you'd rather talk." 

Dirk opens his eyes. 

"Okay. So. You're like -- half me, right?" 

"Pretty much." 

"From what point?" 

"Sorry? I don't follow." 

And that's interesting, isn't it? His soul splinters are usually two steps ahead of him on the path of his own thoughts. He frowns. 

"I mean, when did Jake dream you up, or whatever? When did you -- I don't know, splinter off? How old were we? How many years of divergence are there between your manifestation and right now? I need to know what I'm working with, here." 

"Hm." The ghost is frowning, too. There's a little furrow between his brows, and Dirk notices with some dismay that his shades really don't hide as much as he likes to think. Fuck, this is weird. "I don't think I work like that, exactly." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean, I don't think you should think about my state of mind in chronological terms. Time is kind of meaningless, for me? I see what you're getting at, but I don't think it's the right approach. When I'm here, I'm just... here. Existing. Part you, and part him. Maybe part something else, too? The memories I have of my own existence are unique to me, I guess. But you and I aren't some diverging consciousness. There's no point you can look to in the past where we were the same, and now suddenly we're not. The part of me that's you is just you -- no timeline coordinates necessary." 

Dirk considers this, turning it over in his mind. It's not the way he's used to thinking about his splinters. It's hard to wrap his head around.

"So you know what I'm thinking, right now." 

"Not exactly. I know what Jake thinks you're thinking, though. And I can make a pretty fucking educated guess." 

"You know what _Jake_ is thinking, right now?" 

"Kinda? By definition, anything I think is something he's thought, though not always consciously. Run it through a filter of how he thinks the thought would present from you, and add in a little dash of _actually_ being part you to keep the whole thing more authentic than he could actually manage on his own -- he has an impossible ideal of you, man -- and you get... me, I guess. In case you hadn't noticed, my entire existence is kind of really fucking weird." 

He looks so fucking apologetic, Dirk actually laughs. It's a harsh, borderline hysterical laugh, but it's still laughing -- counts for something, right? The ghost nods, like this reaction makes perfect sense to it. 

"All right," Dirk says, gesturing toward the kitchen. "Let's talk."


	2. your absolute favorite houseguest is back

"I convinced him to stay," the ghost is explaining, leaning back in his chair. Dirk is leaning forward in his, mostly because he doesn't want their postures to match. This is awkward enough without full-on mannerism synchronization, thank you very fucking much. "And by that, I mean he mostly convinced himself. That's my main thing, I think, in the end. A way for Jake to give himself some plausible deniability in regards to his own fuckin' thoughts." 

"There's no way that's it. Especially not to him." Dirk is remembering the gut-twisting dream on the bench, of course. The ghost tilts its head, and its lips twitch down. Frowning. Curious. God, it is _excruciating_ watching his own face cycle through complex emotions. He can't possibly not know. Can he? "Pretty sure he likes you, man. Like. _Likes_ you."

"He thinks he does, sometimes, sure. But we both know they're just referred feelings for you. And all that aside, he isn't feeling super charitable toward me or even the idea of me, right now. Scared it's gonna ruin shit with you."

"Pretty sure he isn't feeling super charitable toward me, either." 

"I'm telling you, he's just mostly worried you're going to march back in here and call everything off, again." _Again._ Dirk winces. The ghosts nods sympathetically, like it can read his mind. Hell, close enough. "The thing is, he knows this isn't cool. He's known it from the damn start, but as long as there was basically never any chance you'd ever know about me, it didn't matter. And when there's no chance for any consequences whatsoever..." The ghost lifts his arms up and links his fingers behind his head. His eyebrows are thin, twin ginger arches. Dirk marvels at how flagrantly douchetastic he looks. He doesn't _really_ look like that, does he? "Well, come on, man. You know Jake." 

"Not as well as you do, apparently." 

"Not really a fair comparison. I partially _am_ Jake." 

"The truth is, he should have told me about this a long fucking time ago!" He can't quite keep the sullen undertone out of his voice, there, and he flinches away from it. The ghost is considerate enough to give him a second to recompose. Real polite guy, this ghost. 

"Would you have believed it?" 

"Obviously?" Dirk glares at him. It. Whatever. 

The ghost's lips twitch, again. Whatever the fuck that means. This is bullshit, actually, he should be able to interpret his own goddamn expressions and mannerisms, shouldn't he? "Yeah. You know, maybe. Fuckin, maybe you would have. Not exactly the most far-fetched thing in the world, another splinter, just for old times' sake. Pretty wild story to just make up for no reason. All right. But here's the thing. Would it have changed your opinion?" 

And Dirk _wants_ to snap at him, to insist it would have, _of course_ it would have, but... But. _Would_ it have? He hunches down, shrinking under the weight of his shitty feelings about this whole bullshit situation.

"At least I might have missed out on the embarrassing spectacle of the two of you making out on a bench together in the moonlight, or whatever the fuck that was." _Shit._ It comes out all humiliatingly sulky. The ghost's arms drop. It sits up a little straighter in the chair, and actually starts fidgeting, knee bouncing in place. Fuck, Dirk thinks, watching this -- Do _I_ twitch around like that? He checks himself. Not fidgeting. Good. 

"I can one hundred percent guarantee you, dude, I have never even once made out with Jake." 

"Yeah fucking right." 

"I haven't," the ghost says, and now it actually sounds kind of upset. Dirk narrows his eyes behind his shades. "I've never done a damn thing. Long talks, that's it. Most of the time, I couldn't touch him even if I tried." It holds up its hands, and they shimmer a bit in the air. The ghost sighs. "It's not usually like this. This is a lot more real than I'm used to being, to be honest." 

"Fine. Let's suspend disbelief for a second and say that's true. But if you _could_ have, if you'd had the opportunities, you'd have taken them. Don't lie." 

The ghost quirks an embarrassing, rueful little smile at him. "Only if he wanted me to." 

And that's the thing, isn't it? This guy can't do anything Jake isn't asking him to do. Making him do, maybe, on some level. It would be easy to blame the ghost, to treat this shimmery copy of him like some kind of fucked up brain ghost homewrecker, but god damn. It's not that easy, is it?

"He never really did," the ghost insists, like it's following along his thoughts after all. "Want me to, I mean. Well, no -- he did. But not because of _me._ He just wanted you so bad sometimes, a substitute started to seem like a pretty good compromise." It shrugs. "God. This is confusing even for me, so it's probably total fucking garbage, for you." 

"Uh, yeah." 

"The bottom line is, he really only wants you." 

"Bullshit. You know how I know that's bullshit? Because I literally heard him say he wanted you, too, bro." 

The ghost ruminates on this. The space between them feels very wide, and simultaneously microscopic. It's hard to breathe.

"Well," it says, finally. "If you had two Jakes technically available to you, can you honestly tell me you wouldn't want to fuck them both?" 

Dirk stands up so fast the chair topples over. It clatters to the floor and the ghost stands up, too, like it expected this. The worst part is, he _thinks_ about it. He honest to god considers it long enough for the image to crystallize in his mind -- Jake in front of him, hands in his hair, smirking down at him, and simultaneously Jake behind him, hands grabbing rough around his hips, demanding, and -- wouldn't he? Wouldn't he? 

He opens his mouth to deny it, and the ghost disappears. 

"Dirk?" Jake's voice from the bedroom, muffled behind the closed door. Dirk blinks at the vacant space the ghost had previously been occupying, mind skittering. It means something, he thinks. It means something that the fucking thing disappeared when Jake realized that he -- the _real_ him -- might be back. It fucking _means_ something. There's a muted shuffling sound and the thump of footsteps that aren't trying to conceal themselves, and Dirk just stands there stupidly and lets the door open behind him. "Dirk," Jake says again, breathes it out, and the relief in his voice is what finally gives Dirk the courage to turn around. 

"Hey," he says. It's completely inadequate, and also all he can manage. Jake rubs his eyes, then runs his fingers through his messy hair, glasses sitting all askew on his painfully handsome face. It takes more effort than he'd like to keep his own hands still. 

"You're back," Jake says, finally, blinking at him. He's shifting on his feet, nervous. His electric green eyes slide away from Dirk's and dart aimlessly around the moonlit room. "Are you, erm, that is -- Did you come back to stay, or?" Jake's eyes find the floor as he says this, and Dirk crosses his arms, ignoring the painful thumping in his chest. 

"How much did you hear of all that?" He asks this because he knows Jake is more clever than he likes to let on, and not at all above eavesdropping. Jake's eyes snap back to his. 

"Not as much as I might have preferred," he says, in this almost-sulky little mutter. Then, louder, "He was here, wasn't he? Brain Ghost Dirk." 

"Yeah." 

Jake sucks in a breath. "So, here's the thing. About him. And me." 

"God, can we at least sit down before we do this?" Dirk spins around, stalking back to the table and the chairs, one of which is still toppled over on its back. He bends down, lifts it. Jake clears his throat, sliding into a seat across from him.

"I _meant_ to tell you, Dirk. Really. It's just friggin _weird_ , isn't it? I have a shit handle on that sort of thing most of the time and even I know it's a screwy thing. And I knew you wouldn't like it! And I didn't want to deal with it, alright? I just didn't want to deal with the whole damn loony situation because I knew there'd be no fair solution for everyone and what the fuck do I even do?" Jake taps his fingers on the table, agitation written all over the tension in his posture, expression, the stiff set of his bare shoulders. Dirk forces his eyes away before they can trace their way the rest of the way down, and tries to focus on Jake's words. Fuck. 

"Okay, yeah. It's weird." 

"It's a plum bunch of piffle, is what it is." 

"Yeah." 

Jake's fingers still. He lets out this low, mirthless little chuckle. "All right. Glad we got that part settled, but you're not giving me much to work off here, mate." 

"I'm not sure what to say." 

"You think I am?" Jake takes a deep breath. "I guess -- and I know you'll hate this but this is what I have to say -- I want to know what you're _feeling?_ " 

Now it's Dirk's turn to let a fake chuckle scrape free. He shrugs. 

"Kind of shitty, to be honest?" 

"Yes, well. Okay. Fair." 

"Kind of _jealous,_ maybe?" 

"...Right." 

"I mean, I get it. I know what it's like to deal with my splinters, believe me. But I always labored under the self important delusion, I guess, that the real me was preferable to any of them? At least for you? I don't know why I always let myself have that, but I did, and --" 

"It's not a contest!" Jake interrupts him, speaking fast. Dirk presses his lips flat together. "It's not about which of you is more preferable at all! You're both just who you are and you're both important to me in different ways. But if it makes you feel better, if you positively need to know, if I had to choose one of you, I'd choose you! _Obviously_ , because you're -- _Dirk._ " 

And, actually, the weight on his chest lifts a little, hearing that. Even though Jake's voice is trending away from apologetic and more toward -- not angry, exactly, but close. Forceful.

"You're my best bro, and also, the guy I've been keen on since before I even knew what those feelings were or what they meant, christ's sake. Brain Ghost Dirk is different." He gestures, jerking his hands wildly in the air, like he can pantomime out the words he's trying to find, instead. "He was there for me when you couldn't be, for whatever reason, and I like him, is that so damn wrong? He helps me understand things, he helps me work things through. And, yeah! He looks exactly like you, in case you hadn't noticed, so yes -- sometimes I think about _things._ Can you really friggin' blame me? If anything, it's probably because I'm _too_ smitten with your damn handsome visage to control myself even when I really should! So!" He shoves a finger at him over the table, pointing furiously. "Before you go on thinking the absolute worst of me, maybe you should consider all of that, huh?" 

"All right," Dirk says, and a little of the tension drains out of Jake's pose. His accusatory finger folds back into a fist and then he drops both hands flat on the table, leaning forward. Dirk holds up his hands. "But let's think about this. How would you feel if there were another guy around wearing your face, and I was sneaking out at night to hang out with him? Think about it." 

Jake's mouth opens. Closes. His brow furrows. He slumps down, folding his arms over each other and pressing his forehead against them. His voice is muffled when he talks. "All right, fine," he says. "You've got me there. I would hate it." Something squirms around in Dirk's stomach, something embarrassingly warm and emotional. Jake looks up, settling his chin on his arms, instead. "Just hate it. You're -- well." His jaw bulges as he grits his teeth. "You're _mine,_ " he says in this little growl, and Dirk just raises his eyebrows at him, even though his heart is pounding a mile a minute. 

"Uh, yeah. I mean. Likewise. Or so I thought." 

Jake straightens up, worrying his lip. "No more sneaking out and hiding things and whatnot. No more fantasy indulgences in the dagnab moonlight! Fine. I don't know if I can or could _unmake_ him, Dirk, but..." 

"Yeah, no." Dirk drops his hands. Shrugs. "I get it. I mean, if he decides he needs to duel me for your hand or whatever the fuck, we can deal with that when we get there." 

Jake grins. "God, I'd like to see that," he says, and Dirk's eyebrows shoot up again, and Jake's face goes absolutely scarlet. "I mean!" He stands up, cheeks blazing. "God damn it," he mutters. "I'm trying, all right? I'm trying." 

A part of him wants to press on that, but he knows better and takes a deep breath and makes a conscious decision to let it go. "All right," he says instead. "So we're good, then? For right now, at least?" He winces. That sounds so damn pessimistic, but Jake is nodding. 

"At least now you know? And now we can... deal with it? Whatever all that entails." His face scrunches up, and Dirk has no idea what he's thinking.

"Uh, yeah," he says, studying Jake's opaque expression. A few emotions pass over it too fast to follow, and then Jake is walking around the table and toward him, until he's standing close enough that their legs are almost touching and Dirk is looking stupidly up at him from his seat. Jake meets his gaze, smiling softly.

"If we're all right, I'd like to go ahead and do some things to you, now," Jake says. "Just to make sure. Really cement the whole deal in my mind." Dirk swallows, staring up. 

"Some _things_ , huh? Way to be specific, bro. I definitely know exactly what you're thinking, now." 

Jake scoffs. "Your sarcasm, I'm sorry to say, rings completely hollow right now, because you damn well know exactly what my meaning is and unless you tell me to bugger off right now, I'm going to just go ahead and..." He leans in, presses his hands down against Dirk's shoulders. "Do those things, now." 

"I'm not exactly struggling, here," Dirk says, casting a performatively bewildered glance around. Jake laughs, dips down, and roughly takes his lips, his teeth, his tongue. His hands slide from atop Dirk's shoulders to around the back of his neck and then up, and the chair creaks dangerously while Jake settles himself on top of him and really gets to work. 

It's a little frenzied. A little desperate. Dirk lets his brain marinate thoughtlessly in the pleasure that is Jake English expressing his own possessiveness, and tries not to whimper too pathetically when Jake's teeth pinch his earlobe and he whispers the word "mine" like a warning. 

* 

That's how it is, for awhile. They isolate themselves a little more than usual, stake claims on each other a little more frequently, with a little more enthusiasm. The knowledge that the ghost exists is a specter hanging over their conversations that never really manifests, mostly because the ghost hasn't been manifesting, either. Which suits Dirk just fine in some ways, and makes him even more of an anxious wreck in others. It isn't gone forever, that much they agree on. Maybe it's just avoiding them, following Jake's subconscious desires -- _not now, man, not until this hot water my boyfriend and I are in cools down some, yeah?_

But nothing lasts forever, especially not uneasy truces. 

Dirk is half asleep when he hears the voices. He rolls over onto his back, and take a peek through slitted eyes. Jake is sitting on the side of the bed, and Dirk can't help but trace the pleasing line of spine, the curve of his shoulder blades -- _god._ Past him is the ghost, sitting in the window, red-tinged moonlight filtering through its mostly transparent form. Its posture is relaxed, its chin titled up, like it's tracing out patterns on the ceiling. Dirk keeps his breathing even. It's not that he wants to eavesdrop, it's just -- well. Fuck it. He really wants to know what the fuck they are saying. 

"You're just as bad as he is, sometimes," Jake is whispering, gesturing toward Dirk -- actual Dirk, pretending to be asleep behind him. Dirk frowns. He sounds upset. 

"Yeah, but like, you made me this way?" The ghost shrugs. It doesn't seem at all bothered by Jake's accusatory tone. "You wanted it to work, didn't you?" 

"No!" Jake startles at his own volume, casts a guilty look over his shoulder. Dirk is shitty enough to say nothing, to keep his eyes shut enough that Jake can't tell at a glance he's awake. Still self aware enough to feel bad about it, though. He should sit up, let him know he's up. But, fuck. 

"No need to deny it, man. I get it. I disappear for awhile, even when you think you're trying really hard to summon me, or whatever -- even though we both know that's not exactly how it works -- and you start believing less, right? Nice trick. If you believe in me less, then I _actually_ go away, and you've got some plausible deniability, the other guy is happy, and my feelings don't matter, because I'm not actually real." 

"But--" 

"That isn't me being snarky, actually," the ghost clarifies, quickly. "It was the right call, theoretically. But the gum in the gears, here. Your plan couldn't have worked unless it was what you really wanted, right? And it's not, not _really_ , so now, here we are. All together again, and just as awkward as ever. Nice." 

Jake lets out a frustrated huff. "I don't know what to _do_ ," he says, and Dirk feels the boulder-sized weight of a guilty conscience roll over on top of him, making it hard to breathe. God damn it. He opens his eyes. The ghost is staring right him, like it knew all along, which would technically mean that _Jake_ knew all along, and -- fuck. He sits up, and Jake flops backward, the back of his head landing in Dirk's lap over the blankets. Dirk blinks down at him. 

"Your absolute favorite houseguest is back," Jake says, sheepishly.

"Sup," the ghost adds, from the window. "All done pretending to be asleep, then?" 

"Fuck you," Dirk says. The ghost nods. On some level, it's giving voice to the things Jake is thinking. Dirk turns this over in his head while Jake groans into his own hands. 

"Noted. Maybe we should just cut right through all this bullshit tension and skip right to the part where we all make out, or whatever." 

Jake makes a strangled sound through his fingers. "God damn it," he says. "Knock it the fuck off!" 

"He can't say anything you aren't thinking, right?" Dirk says. Jake makes a pathetic sound. The ghost sighs. It's still shimmering, but looking more solid every second. It pats at its own arms, stomach, legs.

"I'm honestly not trying to cause trouble," it says. "Existing is hard work, you know. Not existing? That's easy. Don't have to think about anything at all. Weigh your place in the world. Really sit down and ruminate on that shit. Nah. I can't figure out how I even have a continuous consciousness, given just how fuckin' utterly nonexistant I can be, sometimes. Fucked up, when you think about it." 

"Sure is," Dirk agrees. Jake is just shaking his head in silent denial. 

"I'd leave you alone," the ghost clarifies, "but I actually can't." 

"Because he wants you here." Dirk nods toward Jake. 

"Something like that." 

Jake swears again, and then sits up so fast he almost smashes his face against Dirk's jaw. Dirk leans back just in time, and Jake springs off the bed, half-dressed and pointing furiously. "You make it sound like you don't have any say in this at all! Like I'm just some kind of ghosty puppeteer, and we both know that's not right. You -- I know for a fact, the more _real_ you are, the more you can do whatever the heck you want! Well, here! What do _you_ want, Brain Ghost Dirk? Huh? Why don't you tell me that!" 

And sure enough, the ghost solidifies, the bloody red moonlight dimming as he fills the window and blots it out. It seems a little surprised by this, and Dirk hates how obvious this is on his face, shades and all. He notes the ghost is wearing his same pajamas -- sweats and a tank top, nothing exactly fancy, but it's exactly what he's wearing right now and it feels... uncomfortable. They are pretty much identical. The ghost lifts up his hands and stares at them, brows knit. 

"Well?" Jake says again, flinging it like a challenge. The ghost -- or not a ghost, now, technically -- hops down and startles visibly at the solid sound his feet make against the floor. Then it lets out this rueful chuckle, and sure, he's technically laughing, but Dirk can hear the _sadness_ in it, and -- weirdly, it hits him hard. He feels his stomach drop, all the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end. Fuck, this isn't fair. This thing, whatever it is, didn't _ask_ to exist. And Dirk knows, both logically and instinctively, exactly what it wants, and how impossible that must be from its perspective. 

"Let's see," the ghost says. "The part of me that's _him_ , that's easy. That just wants you. Real fuckin' bad, basically all the time." Dirk feels his face heat up. Jake takes a step back, lips parting slightly. "And it's easy, because you're all right with that, too. Jake English thinks that loving Jake English is the best damn idea since the first iteration of the action-adventure film." 

"Now, hold on a second," Jake says, but he sounds uncertain. The ghost ignores him. 

"The part of me that's you? Still pretty easy. I want _him_ ," the ghost gestures at Dirk, which -- what? Dirk stares back, frozen in place. _What?_ "But not so easy after all, because the part of me that's _him_ pretty much hates myself? What a fucking mess, right?" The ghost makes a _tsk_ sound and plants his hands on his hips. "Like, damn, Dirk, calm the fuck down. You're not that bad. _We're_ not that bad. Sometimes, in fact, I'd venture to say we're pretty fuckin' good, like it or not." 

"What the fuck are you _talking_ about?" Dirk chokes out, mystified. 

"But here's the thing -- I also just want both of you to just be fucking happy, you know? That's something we can all agree on, right? And I'm pretty sure me existing doesn't really factor into that scenario, so if we could all just accept that and move on, that'd be great." 

"What about the part of you that's _you,_ " Jake says, and the ghost crosses his arms. 

"What?" 

"You went over the part that's me, and the part that's Dirk, and I guess the part that's sort of both of us all mixed in together, but what about you? You're looking pretty damn real, right now, wouldn't you say? So what do _you_ want." 

The ghost thinks about this. Dirk watches its face. He can actually see it consider a joke response, a non-response, brushing off the question entirely. And then he sees its face harden and its chin lift and he knows it's going to try to answer honestly, after all. He holds his breath. 

"I think what I really want is just for you and him to both believe in your damn selves? And, like, believe in me. But not in a shitty way, just in a way that lets me exist in a way that doesn't ruin everything for both of you?" The ghost leans back on its heels and nods. "Yeah. That sounds pretty fuckin' sweet. And also, impossible, so there you have it." 

"So you _do_ want to exist!" Jake throws this out like an accusation. 

The ghost studies him, but says nothing. Switches its gaze to Dirk. 

"You know what I mean," he says. 

And, fuck him, but he does. He is empathizing with the fucking ghost. God damn it. 

"Jake," Dirk says, softly. Jake shoots him a wide-eyed glance. 

"What!" 

"I think you should let him go. I mean -- be less real, again." 

Jake's face scrunches up, again, and he looks like he's going to argue. Dirk shakes his head. "Not permanently, man, just -- for now. Let what he said sink in, some. I think we could all use a breather, after that one." 

Jake's features smooth a bit, and his lips twist together in a half-smirk, half-grimace. "He," Jake repeats. 

"What?" 

"You said _he._ Not _it._ " 

"Regardless of any of _that,_ " the ghost cuts in, "Dirk is right." 

Jake turns around and squares his shoulders. "I'm not just going to stop believing in you, especially not after that. So don't think that's what this is, okay?" 

The ghost hesitates, and then nods. 

And then disappears. 

"You're getting better at that," Dirk observes. 

"Yeah. I don't really like it, when it comes to this. I don't like being _able_ to just..." Jake exhales, loudly, turns and trudges back to bed. "I was always sort of the switch between existing and not, for him, but being able to control it at all makes that feel less like just a friggin fact of life we both have to deal with and more..." He collapses onto the bed, the mattress dipping with his weight. Dirk scoots over, even though he doesn't really need any more space. "I don't like it, Dirk. I don't want to be responsible for whether Brain Ghost Dirk lives or _dies._ And I know that's not what we call it, but isn't it the same?" 

Dirk thinks back to a long time ago, now, sitting on a rooftop, a pair of sentient glasses trembling in his hands. 

"Yeah," he says. "It kinda is." 

"He deserves to be happy, too." 

"He does," Dirk agrees, because like it or not, it's the truth. "Sorry." 

Jake grabs for a pillow, slides it under his head, wiggles backward in the sheets. Cracks one eye open at him. "Sorry for what?" 

"I mean, it's sort of... between us, you know, my fucking splinters just don't stop causing problems, do they? So, sorry. I'm a mess. Can't stop it from happening. Happens even when I don't even know it, apparently." 

"There you go, taking responsibility for every damn thing that happens, again." Jake elbows his leg. "Knock it off, Strider. This particular cock-up is mostly mine! Any responsibility you have in it is completely and totally shared. With me! Mutually! You got that?" 

"If you insist," Dirk says. There isn't much conviction in it, but that goes blessedly unremarked upon. 

"I do," he says. "Should we, I dunno. Talk about what he said?" 

"Probably." 

"God," Jake sighs. "Okay. Yeah, you're right. We should." 

But they both say nothing for awhile, after that. Dirk slides down onto his back and stares at the ceiling, thoughts chasing themselves around in shitty unproductive circles. Jake scoots a little closer and grabs his hand. Dirk lets their fingers link together and squeezes a little too tight. Jake doesn't protest. 

"I don't know if I can share you," Dirk says, finally, long after the red moon has crawled across the sky, its unsettling light giving way to the brighter fingers of the imminent dawn. "Not even with myself." 

Jake laughs at this, soft and sad. "I never wanted us to have to share," he says. "And you might not believe this, but neither did he." 

"Nah. I believe it." 

"I kind of liked the way he looked at you, though," Jake says this like he's admitting some closely held secret, and Dirk laughs. 

"Uh, yeah. That was weird." 

"I shouldn't say this, but I have a rather hard time getting the idea out of my head." 

"What, him and I?" 

Jake nods. "I hadn't considered he might want you, too. And part of me wants to clock him a good one for it, because you're _mine_ , god damn it, but a part of me... likes the idea? A lot." 

"Yeah, hm. I wonder which part," Dirk says, and Jake elbows him again, this time in the ribs. 

"I _know._ It's an awful idea." 

"For like. So many reasons." 

"But it's not just that, either. Like, yes. An absolutely shameless animal part of me is well and truly into the idea of watching you get handsy with Brain Ghost Dirk. There! It's out there, now, no taking it back!" Jake sucks in a breath. Dirk holds his, too. "What a sight that'd be. Yes. But there's another element to it all I don't think you've considered, and that's just... I suppose you'd have to understand more the role he's played in my life? He's been a protector, sort of. Not just from outside this old noggin of mine, either. From my own thoughts, sometimes. Which I know makes no damn sense because he's a manifestation of those same thoughts, but I'm telling you, it's the truth. And I've wondered sometimes, even before now, if you wouldn't benefit from a Brain Ghost Dirk of your very own." 

Dirk laughs. "No fucking way." 

"Yes fucking way! He just has this way of talking you through things, all right? He's better at it than I am! And the thought of someone more capable than I generally am on the plain day to day being _your_ protector too just makes me feel... nice. All right? I like the thought of you actually being taken care of." 

"You take care of me just fine," Dirk says, quietly. 

"Maybe so. But, Dirk. Come now. We both know a fellow like you can always use a little more taking care of. Just ask Roxy. Or Jane. Or, hell, Dave or Karkat or _anyone._ " Jake turns onto his side, facing him. "I'd like to do it all, and I'd never let anyone else _really_ step in between us -- at least not without a damn good fight, you'd better believe that -- but! But. If it's Brain Ghost Dirk... that's not really stepping in between anything. It's just taking someone who already exists whether we like it or not and already _is_ a part of this whole deal we have going on, and letting him fulfill his fucking destiny, or whatever!" 

"You sound like you're talking yourself into this." 

"I'm just trying to _fix_ this," Jake says. He slings an arm over Dirk's chest and pulls him in tighter. Dirk swallows, trying to make the heavy leaden ball of bad feelings in his gut lighten the fuck up, a little. "I know you don't like it," Jake sighs. "I know." 

"Yeah, bro," Dirk says. "You're going to have to let me chew on this one, for awhile." 

"I know." 

"Maybe a long while." 

"I _know._ " 

"Maybe, like, forever." 

Jake groans, presses his face into Dirk's shoulder, and says nothing. Dirk shifts so he can get his arm around him, and they just lay there like that while the sun peeks up over the horizon and creeps in through the windows, uninvited.


	3. i really kinda lost my god damn mind, there

Technically, they _could_ sit on this forever, being a pair of maladjusted actual fucking gods, and all. But they haven't adjusted to the cosmic time scale of their new lives just yet, so all he gets are a few inadequate weeks. 

And he's been thinking about it. What it would be like. Whether he can deal with it. Whether the fact that the soul at the center of this other sentient entity is just another bit crumbled indelicately off his own makes it any less difficult to stomach the thought of sharing Jake with it. Spoilers: it doesn't. Not really.

...Maybe a little. But not enough. 

He's sitting on the beach, knees against his chest, heels dug into the damp sand. He likes it here. Likes the sound of the ocean, even after everything. You'd think someone could get sick of that shit, but not him. Roxy says the smell of salt and the sea reminds her of being lonely. For Dirk, it just kind of... helps him think. Of course, Roxy would say he does too damn much of that, too. 

"You look like you've got a lot on your mind." 

Nostalgia crumbles into jagged irritation. Dirk snorts. "No shit." 

The ghost sits down beside him. If anything, that only makes Dirk even more fucking annoyed. Who invited this thing? He comes here to be alone. Even Jake has mostly learned to leave him be when he stalks off out here, so what excuse does this jackass have?

"I'm probably intruding," it says. 

"Fuck," Dirk snaps. "I hate it when you do that!" 

"Do what?" The worst part is, the thing is looking at him with these wide eyes, like it genuinely has no idea.

"Make it sound like you can read my fucking mind! Isn't it enough that you _look_ exactly like me, do you have to answer my fucking thoughts, too? Like, keep that shit to yourself, man. Let us maintain the illusion of privacy, at least?" 

"I can't read your mind," it says, scooting a little further away. "Sorry. I really can't, though." 

Dirk clenches his jaw. Of course it can't. He knows that. He knows how the damn thing works. It's just confirmation bias. A consequence of being based on the same general mold. 

He's still mad at it. _Him._ God! 

"He's talking himself into it, you know," Dirk says, totally unprompted. He bites the words off sharply, punctuates the statement by stabbing his finger at the ghost like he's making an accusation, which he sort of is. "I can see him convincing himself that this is all just inevitable, and because it's inevitable, it _has_ to work. Because that's what's easiest, right? So of course whatever is easiest is how it has to be!" 

"Sounds like Jake," the ghost agrees. 

"And you're the fucking one who put the whole insane idea into his head!" 

"Yeah. I guess I kinda am. In a way." 

"Look at you. Does he even know you're here? Did he do this on purpose? Is he lurking behind a rock somewhere, watching this all play out?" 

And Brain Ghost Dirk looks at him like he's grown a second head. His not-so-ghostly fingers draw nervous patterns in the sand next to his legs. It's... more a Jake mannerism than anything Dirk would ever do, and -- fuck. A little spark of guilt ignites in Dirk's guts, mixing in with all the rest of the bad feelings, there. "No, man," the ghost says. "It's just me." 

"Why? Why come to me? What is this? You're probably the last person I want to see right now, here while I contemplate the oncoming messy end of the only god damn thing that matters to me in this whole brand new fucked up universe."

The ghost's fingers still, and it snorts. It looks away, shoulders shaking in a telltale tremble. Dirk glares at him. "What the fuck is so funny!" 

"You acting like this relationship is the only one that _matters_ to you. You can be so damn dramatic," it sighs. 

" _Fuck_ you," Dirk starts, but the ghost cuts him off. 

"You really think it'd scar your soul any damn less if Roxy or Jane or Dave or Rose politely but firmly requested that you fuck off out of their lives for good?" 

Dirk hesitates. The ghost nods, and he looks so smug and self important -- _Jesus._ They have the same face! How does anyone ever put up with him, when he's capable of looking like that?

"Didn't think so." 

"Jake is what matters _most,_ " Dirk insists, and he hates how petulant he sounds. "We're working on strike two, here, with him. Which you logically already know. And -- God, I cannot believe I am actually arguing about this with you, who cares! Who fucking cares about the semantics of my words, you know what I'm talking about!" 

"Yeah," it agrees. It flashes him a tired little smile that doesn't reach its eyes. "I have a solution, maybe?" 

"There's no fucking solution! That's the entire point!" 

"No, I think you could solve this," the ghost insists. "Easy. You've got total dominion over the whole soul _thing,_ especially now. You've noticed Jake getting better with his hope powers, but you haven't even considered what that means for you and yours. If you put your mind to it, I think you could easily dislodge this particular splinter, maybe even put it back where it belongs. Solve the whole problem." 

Dirk stares at him. Lifts his hands. Stares at them, too. "Fucking murder you, you mean." 

"Not really." The ghost tilts his head, brows raised. "I mean. Think of it this way. If a river splits, the bigger one isn't murdering its own tributary when it joins back up a few thousand miles down the road, is it? It's just the natural order. If you think of the distance in that scenario as _time_ , instead -- it doesn't mean the smaller one never existed. I'm fine with that solution." 

"You're so fucking full of _shit,_ " Dirk snaps. "You're not fine with it. Not even remotely. And your metaphor fucking sucks, because rivers aren't _alive._ You are -- no, shut your mouth. Don't argue. You are, and you don't want to _not exist,_ and you might not see this as the fucked up murder conspiracy it is, but you know who would?" 

"Look --" 

"Jake Fucking English! You want to fast track him never talking to me, again, this would rank pretty high among the most efficient ways, don't you think?" 

"No," the ghost says, patiently. "He'd accept it. He'd be relieved, actually. Brain Ghost Dirk doesn't exist anymore, sure, and maybe that's sad. But he doesn't _not_ exist, either. The core of him, the _soul_ , that still exists just fine. It's just back where it belongs. A bittersweet ending. He might prefer happy, but we both know he can stomach bittersweet. And then he doesn't have to worry or think about it anymore, and when he looks at you he can pretend there's a little echo of me in there, and feel like everything worked out for the best. Bam. Problem solved." 

Dirk can't even explain why he feels like he might throw up, but he kind of does. The ghost pulls his knees up against his chest, and Dirk scrambles to his feet. The ghost's eyes follow him, only half-hidden at this angle. 

"Except for the part where that involved me violently ripping your soul out of your hope-fueled body," Dirk shoots back, voice hot. Really. What the fuck? How dare this god damn apparition put the onus of this plot on him? 

"If you won't do it, I can. We have the same powers, after all." 

"Don't you fucking dare." 

"I could get it started, at least." 

" _Don't._ " 

"Why _not?_ " The ghost demands, practically _wails_ , jumping to its feet. Dirk takes a startled, stumbling step backward. "Why the fuck not, really?" It takes a step forward, stabbing toward him with a finger that doesn't shimmer one bit. "Do you know how bad this sucks, man? I exist because he needed you and you couldn't be there. That's it. That's the whole reason why! He reached out with his nascent hope potential and you reached back with your crazy heart bullshit, over time and space and a whole host of just, general _improbability_ , and the sheer amount he needed you to be there and you wanted to be there for him met and mingled up and made me. Poof. Springing up fully formed like some real fucking Greek mythology shit. How about that, right? God damn. You're soulmates, idiot. You think something like me wants to get in the way of something like that?"

"Hold on," Dirk says, thoughts spinning. "Wait." 

"No, listen. All of this happened totally absent of any consideration of _anything_ , let alone for what happens when the circumstances that made me happen all change. The entire point of my existence is to help him the way he thinks you would if you _could._ Causing these sorts of problems for either of you runs totally counter to the core of my being. To _both_ kernels of my goddamn magic soul. You think I want this? You think I want all this fucking drama? Hell no, man. Fuck no!" 

"That doesn't mean you have to _die,_ " Dirk blurts, thoughts jumping along and processing all this in jittery panic. He wishes the ghost had just attacked him, instead, because the words are hitting him harder than anything physical ever could. 

"Then what am I supposed to do? The more real I get, the more this stuff _weighs_ on me, do you get it? The more it feels like it matters to figure it out. And I've thought about it. Sat my ass down and tried to think it out the way you would. You know how this ends, right? The longer I stick around, the more problems for the both of you I'm gonna bring on. But what's out there, for me? Jake thinks he's doing the right thing, forcing me into figuring out my _individuality,_ but I'm not so sure. I'm already tired of it. Tired of how this feels, you know? And I'm tired of trying to explain all of this to Jake, because his desperate optimism is a fucking brick wall of sheer obtuseness, sometimes. But you -- you _get_ it. Don't you? Dirk?" 

It's like thinking through static. He takes a deep breath and latches onto the anger, because it cuts through the rest like a knife, and he desperately needs some clarity, right now. 

"So you're seeking me out because you think I'm more willing to just cave in and murder you? Jesus, thanks for that stunning admission on your estimation of my actual personality, I guess?" 

"God damn it," the ghost says. Its shoulders slump. "Can't I just be selfish, this one fucking time?" 

" _Selfish?_ " Dirk barks out and incredulous laugh. "It's honestly no wonder everyone gets sick of my shit, if this is what my shit is actually like to deal with. You're telling me to _erase you from existence,_ and claiming the motivation is _selfishness._ " 

"Yes!" 

"Well, fuck that. And fuck you! That's not how this shit works!" 

"God," the ghost tilts his chin back, pinches the bridge of his nose. "I cannot fucking believe I thought this was going to be easy." 

"Frankly, neither can I!" 

The ghost drops his hand. Squares his shoulders. Looks at him. Dirk glares right back, hands on his hips. 

"Fuck it," the ghost says, after a solid minute of this, breaking first. Dirk's brows furrow together. 

"What?" 

"I have an idea," he says, and then his feet leave the floor and he's flying, shooting off back toward the tower like his ass is on fire. And -- Dirk jumps up to follow, because of _course_ he does. Dirk knows all about destructive tendencies, and he isn't about to be the guy who lets whatever the ghost is fucking planning just _happen_ , because whatever it is, it's probably no good for fucking anyone. 

There's a fenced off patch of dirt at the base of the tower, and the ghost is streaking directly toward it. Dirk clenches his teeth so hard his jaw aches, the wind roaring in his ears as he picks up speed. There's a pile of scrap metal and some discarded tools, and an assortment of robotic husks in various states of completion. Why the ghost is heading _there_ is hard to say, but he lands hard, kicking up a little cloud of dust, and Dirk drops in just behind him, skidding to a stop.

"What the fuck," Dirk snaps, but the ghost just turns to look at the door the leads into the workshop. The handle rattles. Dirk stares. 

The ghost spins around to face Dirk, and something on his face gives the whole fucking thing away. 

"Oh, no," Dirk says, whipping his hands up, warding him off. "Don't even. You knew he was -- Do not _even--_ " 

"If you won't kill me," the ghost says, and Dirk is putting this together, now, this whole ridiculous plan, and he's shaking his head and stumbling backward. 

"Don't you fucking dare," Dirk says, voice climbing. 

"The _least_ you could do is kiss me, instead," the ghost says. Dirk's feet leave the floor -- he's faster, flying -- but the ghost can fly, too, and somehow anticipates this, and they crash together. The damn thing is _very_ real, right now, real enough to knock him out of the air and pin him into the dirt and definitely real enough to kiss him, really kiss him, this ghost is not fucking around. Dirk makes a grunting protest sort of sound, and he hears the startled sound Jake makes when he inevitably comes upon this -- because of course he does. That was the whole god damn idea, wasn't it? The ghost pulls up, their lips making a wet smacking sound as they part. Dirk can see his eyes flutter open through the shades. 

"You fucking idiot," Dirk breathes out. 

The ghost just smiles. 

"What the fuck is this!" Jake demands, frozen in place in the doorway. He has a wrench in one hand. A god damn tool belt around his waist. The ghost straightens. 

"Hey," he says. "Come on, now. Can you blame me? I'm thinking with your brain, here, English. I wasn't going to resist forever." 

"That is _my_ boyfriend you're so shamelessly straddling, right now, so you had better just -- kindly stand the hell up, sir!" 

"I think I'm good where I am," the ghost says. And that's interesting, Dirk thinks, even as he tries to squirm away. Can the thing only defy Jake's actual direct wishes when it's reached a certain level of realness? Or does a part of Jake like this, deep down? Fuck. The ghost is stronger than he looks. Logically, the damn thing is exactly as strong as he is, right? His head is still spinning. 

Jake makes an angry sound. His feet leave the floor -- he's half flying, half jumping -- and he lands with an thick _poff_ in the dirt. Dirk squints up and stares at him. He has his hands on his hips, his brows are pulled down, he's mad as anything. "You know I've thought about this exact sort of hanky panky! You know that! And you also know, _sir_ , we agreed not to do anything, not unless all three of us talked it through and came to some sort of accord, and now -- this? Really? _Really,_ Brain Ghost Dirk?" 

"There was never going to be any kind of accord," the ghost says. "You know it. I know it. He knows it." The ghost reaches down and touches Dirk's face, like, all fucking _tenderly_ , and Dirk makes a strangled little protest sound. What the fuck is _happening?_

Jake drops the wrench -- good -- and his hands honest to god go to his pistols. _Fuck._ Dirk allows himself exactly one second to feel gratified by this, and then the bolt of clarity over what exactly is about to go down lends him a shot of adrenaline, and he heaves the god damn inconveniently corporeal ghost off him and sits up. Brain Ghost Dirk goes skidding backward into the sand with a totally uncool sounding little squawk that Dirk sincerely hopes _he's_ never made anywhere anyone can hear, and Dirk holds up his hands. 

"Everybody shut the fuck up!" He glares from Jake to the ghost and back. "Just fucking hold on for a second, okay? Jake, put the fucking guns away, seriously?" 

Jake startles, like he didn't even realize he'd drawn them. Looking a little sheepish, he holsters them and crosses his arms. The ghost snorts. 

"For the record, I wasn't expecting him to try shooting me." The ghost sounds tired, and yet, also faintly amused. "I was hoping more for, I don't know, a sort of reverse Hope thing? Revoking my license to exist? But, now that I'm thinking about it... I really should not be this surprised." 

"What the fuck is going on?" Jake demands. 

"Your god damn _friend_ here was trying to goad you into unexisting him," Dirk says. "Like, not five minutes after calling _me_ dramatic, what the fuck?" 

Jake swings his wrathful gaze over to pin down the ghost. "Why the blue fucking blazes would you do that?" 

"Honestly? Because existing is confusing, and I'm tired of being at odds with myself," the ghost says. He nods toward Dirk. "And also, I just really wanted to kiss him, at least once. Sue me." 

"You haven't even kissed _me_ , yet!" Jake actually sounds offended, at this. Dirk covers his own eyes with a hand and swallows down the world's most despairing laugh. Jesus Christ. Roxy was right. They should never have been allowed to live on their own out here on a goddamn island with no one with more sense around to save them from themselves. 

"Someone please kill me," Dirk says to no one. 

"Same," the ghost chimes in. 

"No one is killing -- _or kissing_ \-- anyone else until further notice!" Jake snaps, standing over them, gesturing wildly. "Absolutely no more killing and or kissing! Whatsoever!" 

"Yeah, bro," Dirk says. 

"We got it," the ghost sighs. 

Jake's expression softens a little, possibly because they both just look so god damn pathetic. He licks his lips. "But, erm. You can't stay out here forever, either." 

"Couldn't we, though?" Dirk says. "Couldn't we? What's stopping us. The sun? Exposure? Fuck, I'm immortal. Fuck the sun. And fuck your ghost. And fuck everything." 

"That is some fairly rampant fucking," the ghost chimes in. 

"Piss off," Dirk growls. 

"And I'm not _his_ ghost. I'm pretty much real, right now. An independent ghost. I'm not even really a ghost, at the moment, so how about fuck you, instead?" 

"Dude, the word _Ghost_ is in your actual name, take it up with him." 

"Great! Cool. Since I guess we all actually physically _are_ whatever our name is, now, you're going to devolve back into a shitty little shanking knife any second, so we'll just wait for --" 

"Sweet jehosaphat!" Jake interjects, finally, kicking a clod of dirt in the dusty square up and at the both of them. Sand sprays everywhere, and Dirk throws his hands up and makes a dismayed sound. Jake bends over and grabs a few more sun-baked dirt clods and starts throwing them at them. "Shut the hell up! Both of you!" Dirk sputters and scrambles away, lifting a few feet into the air, spitting and blinking grit out of his eyes. That shit gets _everywhere_ , even behind the shades. He can hear the ghost doing the same. 

"Fuck, _stop,_ " he says, spitting one last glob of gritty spit into the sand. Mercifully, the assault pauses. He cracks his eyes open and finds Jake glaring up at him, hands balled into dirty fists. "Jesus, English," he says. 

"For the records! I am suspending both of your talking to each other privileges, effective immediately." 

"I'm not sure you actually have that kind of power, man." 

"I do so. Especially if either of you wants to kiss _me_ in anything even remotely resembling the near future," Jake insists. Dirk snorts. 

"So, that offer is open to both of us, now? Cool, I guess." 

"Says the man who was only just recently out here snogging with Brain Ghost Dirk, himself! In my own backyard, even! Christ Almighty!" 

"That wasn't my choice! He just fucking tackled me as part of his bullshit plan!" Dirk hovers closer, subconsciously, gesturing angrily. He _has_ to understand what was happening, here.

"You were kissing back," Jake insists. 

"I was _not_ kissing back." 

"You were definitely kissing back," the ghost says. 

"Shut _up!_ " Jake and Dirk shout this in unison. 

The ghost shakes himself off, sand flying everywhere, runs a hand through his hair. "I think you both know the best solution to this problem. Here's a hint: It involves me not being around to muck this shit up, anymore. You think it'll stop here? You know it won't. The things I want are too tied up in the both of you to ever go away, and the things _you_ want don't involve me at all. So. Let's skip the excruciating debate and just get right to the solution. Let me _go._ " 

"No," Jake says. The ghost makes a frustrated sound. Dirk stares at the ground -- and then snaps his head right back up again, because Jake is moving. Toward the ghost. The ghost, for his own part, seems unsure whether he should stand his ground or hightail it away at full speed, but Jake gets there before he makes a decision. Jake steps in, grabs the ghost by its dirt-streaked shirt, and yanks him forward. 

Okay. Right. Watching Jake kiss a dude who looks exactly like him is probably the strangest, most uncomfortable and yet oddly arousing thing Dirk has ever done, especially because this isn't just _any_ kiss. This is a real kiss, deep and angry and undeniably fucking emotional, and -- fuck. He's never going to unsee that, no matter how this whole situation shakes out. 

"Good God, English," the ghost gasps, when Jake is finished. Jake shoves him backward. 

"Fair is fair," he says. He turns toward Dirk. "Don't pout." 

"I'm not _pouting_ ," Dirk says. 

"You're pouting," Jake insists, walking at him, straight-backed and full of mysterious intention. Dirk shakes his head. 

"I'm not pouting, god damn it, I'm fucking upset. That was upsetting, okay? Am I not allowed to be upset at the sight of my fucking boyfriend sucking on someone else's tongue, or what?" 

"Shut up," Jake says, and then jumps up into the air, grabs Dirk, yanks him forward and kisses him, too. 

And -- well, of course Dirk kisses back. He can't _not_ kiss Jake, no matter how fucked up the situation between them is at any given time. Jake gets a fistful of hair at the back of Dirk's skull and pulls him back, and Dirk makes an undignified noise, eyes cracking open, searching his face. 

"I love you, Dirk Strider," Jake says, fiercely, and Dirk feels his eyes go wide. If they weren't floating right now his knees would probably honest to god wobble a little, fucking Christ, he's pathetic. 

"I," he starts, but instead of letting him desperately reciprocate the sentiment, Jake kisses him again. Roughly. _Thoroughly._ Time comes untethered, and Dirk melts against him, hungry for reassurance this can't totally give him, but it's something, and he needs whatever Jake can offer right now and more. 

When they break apart, the ghost is gone. 

Jake presses his forehead against his. "I care about that fucking ghost," he says. Dirk flinches back, but Jake pulls him close again, insistent. "But I _love_ you, dummy." 

"I love you, too," Dirk manages to get out this time over the mountain sized lump in his throat. "But, _fuck_ , Jake. What the fuck are we going to do?" 

"Well, for starters," Jake mutters, eyes flickering up and down over Dirk like he's in any place to judge. "Maybe we ought to clean you up. You're a damn hot mess, right now, Strider." He shoves Dirk away, floating across from him. "You haven't been scrumming without me, have you?" 

God. He can't help it; he laughs. It's not entirely sincere, but -- whatever. Jake holds out a hand. Dirk takes it, and they touch down and walk into their ridiculous island tower, together, quiet, drowning in their independent, unshared thoughts.

* 

The ghost gives them a few days to recover. Or maybe gives himself those days? Or maybe Jake is the one gating it, who knows, anymore. 

The point is, when it happens, this time Dirk is almost expecting it.

They're sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, in almost exactly the same configuration they had been when Dirk had first met the damn ghost, and there's a tension in the air, but it's not like it had been at the beach. It's softer. More resigned.

And it starts off with an apology. 

"Sorry," the ghost says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I really kinda lost my god damn mind, there, and I'm really sorry." He doesn't elaborate or offer excuses, which, Dirk thinks, is actually kind of admirable. Probably better than he could have managed in the same position. 

"All right," Dirk says. It's not really acceptance, but it's not a rejection, either. He has no idea how to feel. "Does Jake know you're here?" 

"Nah," the ghost smiles, a little sadly. "Thought this would be easier one on one. I don't know what exactly the rules governing my actual existence are, right now. I know I've talked a lot about what I am and what I'm not able to do, but the truth is, I think the more _real_ I am, the more agency I have. I could probably go anywhere." 

"But that isn't what you want." 

The ghost's smile gets, if possible, even sadder. "You damn well know what I want," he says. 

And they sit there, at an impasse. 

"...Look," Dirk says, finally, desperate at least to feel the stretching silence in the wake of that totally true proclamation. "Okay. Look. I know you don't want to steal him," Dirk says, and he isn't even sure why he's offering this olive branch, because he wants the ghost to fuck off exactly the way he's offering to do. Doesn't he? This pity he feels doesn't extend to just letting it waltz in and ruin everything. Does it? Isn't that sort of instinct exactly the sort of self destructive behavior Roxy is always on his ass about? 

"You might know that," the ghost concedes, "But that wouldn't change the way it felt every time he paid me attention instead of you." 

"Fuck you," Dirk snaps. "I'm not a child!"

A few beats of quiet go by. The ghost quirks a wry smile. Dirk closes his eyes and swears under his breath. 

"All right. Fine. You're probably right." 

"I'm definitely right. And besides, that isn't _all_ I want, here." 

Dirk narrows his eyes at it. "You don't think that's kind of greedy?"

The ghost holds up his hands. "I never denied being greedy." 

"What do you actually _need,_ here, to be happy?" Dirk gestures around, something unidentifiable jumping around in his middle and making a mess out of everything. "Like. What would you need. You're a sentient person, pretty much in love with... well, uh." 

"You. Him. Both of you," the ghost says for him, and Dirk winces and nods and pushes on like that little interlude didn't happen. 

"One of which at least cares for you a lot, and doesn't really want you to go." 

"And the other of which wants me gone so bad he can't sleep at night." 

"No," Dirk says. Winces again. "I mean, yeah. But also -- I don't know. You've complicated my life _tremendously_ , but you know that, and the thing is, I can't just pretend you never existed. You don't just walk out and then _poof_ , the specter of you -- fuck, that was unintentional, sorry." 

"It's fine." 

"Your _shadow_ doesn't stop hanging over us, or whatever. Either you're here or the memory of you is here, and either one could be equally fuckin' toxic, at this point." 

"Also, you maybe sort of kind of feel a little bad for me." 

"God. You know what, fine. Yeah. If you absolutely need to acknowledge my embarrassing pity, fine. Also that. Maybe." 

The ghost leans back and considers him, frowning. "I think I would like it if I could stay," he says, finally. "Somehow stay and somehow be a net positive in your lives, still, despite everything. Which, as we've previously established, is impossible." 

"In both our lives," Dirk clarifies. 

"Well, yeah. I know you don't like talking about this, but I mean it when I say I'm just as crazy about you as I am about Jake, asshole. I don't want to ruin your fucking life." 

And that's the thing. 

That's really the thing that's stopping him, now. Stopping him from telling the ghost to fuck off and never come back, see you later, enjoy the ends of the god damn earth, or whatever. He believes him. He honestly does. 

"That's fucked up," he says. Because it is. The ghosts nods, solemnly. "I mean, you look _exactly_ like me." 

"If that's your only reservation with this fucked up situation, I'd say I'm in pretty good shape." 

"You're not half as funny as you think you are," Dirk growls. 

"And you're not half as intimidating." 

"I--" Dirk stops. Glares. "You're doing that on purpose." 

"What, annoying you?" The ghost tilts his head. "Yeah, I guess I kinda am." 

" _Why?_ " 

"Hm." A little wrinkle forms between its brows. "Sorry, I'm not used to having to examine my own agency. Let's see." He looks up. Meets Dirk's eyes. "Maybe because Jake never imagines you this way. You're always cool, calm. Logical. I don't know _how_ he ever got that impression of you. Probably because back when he was subconsciously putting me together, he was basing you almost completely off the impression he got from text on a screen." The ghost shrugs. His eyes aren't completely visible from this distance, not with the shades, but Dirk can feel his eyes slide away to study something off to the side, instead. He knows that mannerism, because it fucking belongs to him, damn it. "You're fun to rile up. Fun to banter with. Fuck, fun to tease. You're so much more than this idealized version of you -- and Jake knows that, this isn't a reflection on him. It's just, still kinda novel to _me._ Even though we're the same person. Which makes no sense. But there you have it." 

"If that's your way of flirting, I hate to tell you this, but you're really fucking bad at it." Pay no attention to the heart hammering directly beneath the ball of his throat. He feels a little dizzy. 

The ghost's eyes snap back to his. "Like you're some Casanova reborn, yourself." 

"I wish," Dirk mutters. 

"Yeah, me too. Maybe then I could seduce the both of you into just going along with this forever, right?" 

Dirk studies him across the table. The ghost looks a little deflated. A lot deflated, actually. Shoulders slumped, sadness written all over his face. 

Fuck. 

"I'm also really insecure," Dirk says. 

"I noticed that, yeah." 

"Super fucking hells of jealous." 

"Uh-huh." 

"I'm not going to be really very good at sharing. Like, possibly ever." 

"I know." The ghost looks curious, now. "Haven't we been over this exhaustively, already?" 

"I'm just saying," Dirk says, "If you can deal with that, maybe we can... try. To work something out." 

The ghost's lips twitch. "Sounds like a horrible idea." 

"Uh, yeah," Dirk says. "Roxy is going to fucking kill us." 

"Roxy. You know, it's funny." The ghost leans back, thinking. "I have all this fondness for her. Roxy, and all the others, too. But I don't know them. Not really. And they sure as hell don't know me. The closest we ever got was a timeline that..." He shakes his head. "Didn't end well, let's say." 

"Wait," Dirk blinks. "You remember other timelines?" 

"Sure." The ghost shrugs, like that's no big deal. "I exist in plenty. More in some than others. I'm not really close with anyone in any of them. Except Jake, I guess. You, in a way." 

"I..." Dirk tries to wrap his head around this, and fails utterly. "That, uh. Sounds pretty fucking lonely." 

"It can be. But on the whole, existing is probably better than not." 

"So you admit it, finally." 

The ghost smirks, and this lopsided expression that is half Jake and half him, for sure. "Not existing is still preferable to me than ruining either of your lives, thank you very much." 

"Let's not be dramatic," Dirk says. "We've been over this." 

"Are you kidding me? Do you know the personalities I'm made up of?" 

"Yeah, okay. Fuck you." 

"The brainchild of Jake English and Dirk Strider, _not_ being dramatic. Can you even imagine?" 

"I get the point!" 

"See?" 

" _What?_ " 

"It's like I said: you're fun to rile up." 

Dirk crosses his arms. "And I thought no house guest could possibly be more annoying than that god damn troll cat that hangs around here, sometimes." 

"Oh, no," the ghost says, solemnly. "I'm going to be, like, way more annoying than that guy. Wow. Like. Orders of magnitude, my man." 

"Are you trying to get me to change my mind?" 

"Just being realistic," he says. "If I were trying to get you to change your mind, I'd kiss you." 

"Right. Okay." Dirk takes a deep breath. "Let's -- hold off on the kissing, for awhile," he says, voice climbing a little higher than he'd really like. The ghost grins. 

"Awhile isn't forever," he says. "I'll think about it." 

And then he vanishes.

Dirk swears under his breath, with feeling. 

* 

They're sitting on a bench. Dirk is keenly aware of the irony. The sun is sinking into the ocean. Jake English has an arm entangled with his, and is clinging so tight to him it kind of hurts, but Dirk doesn't mind. 

"Do you really think it can work?" Jake asks him in a small voice, like he can barely stand to hope. Dirk flinches away, shrugging. 

"I don't know," he says, because it's the most honest answer he can give. "I mean, all we can do is try." 

"I thought you hated him," Jake peers at him, suddenly all suspicion. "Boy, that must have been some friggin' kiss, huh?" 

"It wasn't the fucking kiss!" Dirk bumps him admonishingly with a shoulder. "God damn, English. Get your mind out of the gutter." 

"I'll have you know, Strider, the gutter is practically my mind's second home, and frankly, it's pretty much the bee's knees. Doesn't deserve the name or the tarnished reputation." 

"God," Dirk scoffs, to cover the fact that he's three second away from choking on his own tongue and slumping over dead, immortal or no. 

"And whatever this arrangement you're proposing entails, you have to know it is at minimum likely to involve kissing," Jake says. "We aren't putting that genie back in the bottle, Dirk."

Dirk lets out a heavy sigh. 

"Yeah, I didn't think we could." 

"So," Jake says. 

"What." 

"You like him, now? At least a little." 

"Like is a strong word." 

"It's _not_ , are you joking? Trying to be some funny guy?" It's Jake's turn to admonishingly shoulder-bump him. 

"I don't want him to be miserable," Dirk says. "I'm not admitting to anything more than that, right now." 

"I don't want _you_ to be miserable," Jake says, shifting around on the bench to face him. Dirk meets his eyes, reluctantly. "And I know you. You won't say anything, if you are. And I'm not always the most observant bloke on the block, so -- I told you. I'd choose you over him, if I had to make the choice, Dirk." Jake lifts up a hand and touches his face, and Dirk flinches back, heart hammering. Jake shakes his head, quirks his lips, and slides his fingers into Dirk's hair, refusing to let him pull away. "Just because I don't want to make the choice doesn't mean I won't." 

"If I'm miserable," Dirk says, softly, "I'll tell you." 

"I just don't believe that. But... I guess I'll try to notice before you have to," Jake says. "But I think, when it all boils down to brass tacks, all he wants is to take care of us, you know?" 

"And kiss us," Dirk says, flatly. Jake laughs. 

"Well, yes. Take care of us in more ways than one, I suppose. But can you blame him? We're a pair of rather strapping blokes." 

"One of us is, at least." 

"Oh, stop." Jake reaches up, plucks his shades off his face. Dirk blinks at him, and marvels at how green his eyes are. 

He never gets tired of kissing Jake. And a not-insignificant, sulking part of his brain thinks, loudly, _that ghost never fucking will, either._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr [@landofsomethingsomething!](http://landofsomethingsomething.tumblr.com)


	4. let's just all take our clothes off, how about that

Dirk makes himself sick conjuring up worst case scenarios. What their daily life might become. What it'll be like, having a third party nosing in on all of his and Jake's personal business and private affairs. Imagines realities where the two of them slowly edge him out of their lives, Jake contenting himself with this carefully crafted, personally tailored version of Dirk. This thing that looks and sounds exactly like him but sometimes _acts_ so much like Jake, instead. Imagines what it'll be like, feeling them shut him out, feeling _Jake_ shut him out, until this Brain Ghost invader has usurped him completely and Dirk is the splinter on the outside of his own life looking in on what he lost. On what he _let_ himself lose, because none of it would be happening if he hadn't opened the fucking door. 

But it's like the ghost knows. 

There's no kissing at all, not at first. The ghost mostly keeps to himself, more than Dirk ever imagined he would. He's quiet. Thoughtful. Dirk watches him out of the corner of his eye when they do happen to be sharing some physical space or another, and comes to the conclusion that the ghost just really likes watching _them._ Which is embarrassing, but also... sometimes, the look on his face is so... 

He pushes those feelings down. He has enough feelings about this. Not a good idea, introducing new ones. 

Jake isn't so content to just watch. He talks, constantly, chattering away with this comfortable demeanor that Jakes hardly ever has with _anyone_. The ghost banters with him. It's strange to watch. Disconcerting, because the ghost has Dirk's voice. Dirk's face, but with only a fraction of Dirk's general tendency to keep its expressions under tight control. 

Life starts reassembling itself around the new arrangement. What the fuck are they, exactly? What is the exact definition of this fucked up three way relationship? Dirk has no idea. The other inhabitants of the island don't ask, probably because they are mostly idiot lizards, and they absolutely do not tell anyone else. The ghost, thank Christ, doesn't argue with this. They are in no way ready to tell their friends and families about this fucked up little arrangement, whatever it is. This isn't like the shit trolls do. This isn't even like the shit some humans do -- the ghost _has his fucking face._ Not to mention how he came into existence in the first place. Shit is fucked up. 

Shit is super fucked up.

But even fucked up shit starts feeling normal, if you do it long enough. 

And eventually, the lack of all that anticipated awkward physicality starts to feel awkward, in of itself. Dirk catches himself feeling _bad_ about it, of all things. Like, why isn't the ghost making a move? He clearly wants to. Jake clearly wants it to. Dirk catches it staring at him, sometimes, just looking in this completely unambiguous obviously _interested_ way. Sometimes he snaps at him to knock it off. But not always. Sometimes he just lets it happen, lets its ghostly eyeballs roll over his body while an embarrassing blush creeps up his neck, and a part of him actually wants something to just fucking happen, already. 

How fucked up is _that?_

So fucked up. 

And in the meantime, it's obvious Jake can feel the tension, too. The time they do spend alone isn't _really_ alone, because on some level, they're both thinking about this other guy. They're different with each other. More rough. More demanding, like they're simultaneously staking their last solo claims over their respective bodies and expressing their frustration with the way the building tension just refuses to fucking break. 

Dirk isn't sure who's going to give in first, but he does know one thing: it damn well isn't going to be him. 

* 

"Do you think he's lonely, out there?" Jake whispers, pressed all snug against him in the dark. Dirk grunts. "Do you think he's just shy, all of a sudden?" 

"I highly fucking doubt the dude is shy, man." 

"Insecure?" 

"Maybe." 

"Do you think he might be second guessing this whole arrangement?" 

"Man," Dirk thumps his shoulder. "I don't know. You chat with him a lot more often than I do, in case you hadn't noticed." 

"That's the thing, though. He doesn't _seem_ any of these things! And he tells me not to worry when I say I might be worried and I'm not good at this, he knows I'm not good at this." Jake's brows are pulled down and his volume is climbing; he is well and truly worked up.

"He's probably just worried about about ruining our lives with needy bullshit," Dirk says. Jake elbows him, hard. 

"That sounds more like you than him," he teases, and Dirk snorts a derisive denial, even though he is absolutely right. 

"I know you're all excited to fulfill some long held fantasies, or whatever," Dirk says, because he has had plenty of time to rehearse his own feelings about this subject, "But I'm not exactly chomping at the bit to invite him in here with us, man." 

"I _know_ ," Jake sighs. "But we're going to _have_ to deal with it, Dirk. Eventually." 

"Another night, though," Dirk says, and Jake makes this noncommittal little sound and snuggles up closer against him and _fuck,_ it just feels nice to hold him. 

But, of course, he can't sleep. 

Long after Jake has passed right the fuck out and is snoring softly on his shoulder, Dirk lays awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to decide what to do. The ghost isn't shy. He's probably just trying to be cool. To not -- impose, or whatever. To upset the delicate state of his own invitation into their arrangement. It had all been made with the assumption that it would be explicitly romantic, or whatever, because how the fuck could it _not_ be, the ghost's feelings being what they were. And Jake's feelings being what they were. And, maybe, on some level, Dirk's own feelings being what they were, too. Maybe. 

But an invitation isn't an _invitation_ , and... 

Dirk's sigh is long and suffering. God damn it. 

Jake barely stirs as Dirk carefully slides out from under him and off the bed. Fucking insecure fucking ghost _bullshit._

He finds the ghost downstairs in the workshop, fiddling with gadgets and wires in a way that Dirk can see right away is not leading anywhere productive. Tinkering without any purpose just to fill the time. Yeah, relatable. He clears his throat, and the ghost looks up. _Smiles._ Fuck. He hadn't been expecting to be ambushed by unexpected emotional openness. Is he fucking blushing, right now? He can't tell. The room seems to heat up, so probably.

"What the fuck are you doing," he demands. It comes out cranky and petulant, because he's tired. Confused. Why is this whole shitty situation so fucking confusing? 

But the ghost just shrugs. "Nothing super productive. I thought you were asleep." 

"Okay, but what about you?" 

"What do you mean?" 

Dirk makes an irritated sound. Gestures back up toward the bedroom. "Sleep, man. Don't you ever sleep?" _Don't you ever think about sleeping with us?_ He shakes his head. _Stop it._

"Not really," the ghost says, like it's no big deal. And now that he's standing here really thinking about this, Dirk realizes he has never once seen the ghost even so much as dozing. 

"Holy fuck," Dirk says, because -- uh, holy fuck. 

"What?"

"Do you not get _tired?_ " 

"Am I being lectured about sleeping by the guy who did his level best to sleep as little as possible for the vast majority of his life?" The ghost is teasing him. Dirk can tell by the way it's smirking. He takes a deep breath. Just be cool. 

"Which makes me even more qualified to educate you on this, I think," Dirk says, crossing his arms. "As someone who only recently started to let himself actually catch some solid, uninterrupted hours, I feel pretty confident informing you: Sleep is pretty fucking awesome, dude. You should try it, sometime." 

The ghost's smirk only goes even more lopsided. Dirk steels himself for the teasing that he knows is coming. "Duly noted. Now, what is this, really? Dirk? Are you worried about me?" he asks, all fake-innocent. Like Jake. He's probably batting his eyelashes behind the shades. 

"Kinda? And Jake definitely is, just so you know." 

"I actually had no idea you didn't know this about me. I would have said something." He looks insufferably amused. "What, did you think I was just curling up on the couch down here, alone? Crying into a blanket, or something?" 

"Pretty much, yeah." 

"Well, bless your sensitive soul," the ghost says, lifting a hand to his heart. Dirk rolls his eyes. "But nah. I'm fine. Go back to bed, man." 

He almost does exactly that. But there's something in the way the ghost's smirk is half-melting into a genuine smile, and the way the night feels like it's tilted over away from reality into something surreal, instead, and the way he truly, honestly does just want this piece of shit _entity_ that lives in his home and is maybe sort of kind of dating both him and his boyfriend to just be... okay. 

"You should really try sleeping," Dirk insists, instead. 

"What, right now?" The ghost drops the tools on the table, and Dirk winces at the clatter. "Is this an invitation? Are you offering to cuddle up with me on the couch, right now?" 

"No," Dirk says, quickly.

"Damn. Not even any hesitation." He goes to pick up a discarded screwdriver. "Well played." 

"I mean," Dirk hears himself say, "Unless it would work?" He feels his neck and face and ears all slowly heat up. 

The ghost makes a thoughtful sound. Very deliberately, it checks him out, eyes running up and down his body. Dirk forces himself to keep still. He isn't going to lose this weird power play, no sir. The ghost waves the screwdriver at him. "I see," he says. "I'll keep the offer in mind." 

"But..." 

"But right now, you should probably go back to Jake." 

It's actually shocking how much the implicit sort of rejection stings. Like, after all that had been said, and all they'd been through to get to this moment, the ghost turns _down_ an offer of actual fucking intimacy? Damn. Cold. Unbelievable. 

Dirk nods, stiffly. "All right, then," he says, trying and failing to not sound bothered. He turns on a heel, and walks out. 

*

Next time, they both go.

Jake is armed with the blankets, and Dirk has the pillows, and they ambush him in the exact same place, doing the exact same thing, tinkering around with bullshit gadgets in the workshop. 

He looks up when they enter and actually startles, which is more satisfying than Dirk is strictly willing to admit. 

"Yeah, buckle in, fucker," he says, advancing as menacingly as one possibly can when armed with nothing but pillows. "We're here to teach you a lesson, and that lesson is, the numerous wonders of a night of restful sleep." 

"Is this a joke?" the ghost asks, dropping whatever shit he was working on and holding his hands up, fingers splayed like the world's most inadequate shield. 

"No joke," Jake assures him, advancing around the other side of the workbench. "We're prepared to do whatever is necessary, including resorting to physical force!" 

"Physical force," the ghost repeats, raising his eyebrows. 

"Innuendo not exactly intended, but y'know, not exactly _not_ ," Jake grins. The ghost looks from him, to Dirk, and back again. 

"You're fucking serious," he says, like he can't quite believe it. 

"So are you going to come quietly, or do we have to tackle you and drag you off?" 

"Well, uh. Which would you _prefer?_ " the ghost is smiling, again. Dirk has come to realize that at some point between the beach and now, he started to like the way he looks when he smiles like that. All weirdly sincere. No wonder Jake melts like a snowflake in summer when he does it, himself. 

"I think you know," Jake says, and the ghost nods once. Then the fucker springs forward, running like his life depends on it. Jake lets out this hilarious whooping cry and starts after him, except his legs tangle up in the blankets and he goes down, cursing. So Dirk does the only thing he can do: he drops the damn pillows, lets his feet leave the floor, and streaks out after the ghost himself. 

It takes some doing, but between the two of them they manage to get him good and subdued, eventually. They even manage to recover the blankets and pillows and shit, too. Eventually. They're all breathless and Jake is laughing and Brain Ghost Dirk is fake-complaining with his fingers all knotted up in Jake's shirt. And Dirk expects it to be the two of them, settling down and cuddling all contentedly while he just kind of curls off to the side, awkward and unnecessary. 

But... it isn't like that at all. They're not even on the couch, just piled at the foot of it. Jake throws the blankets around all three of them and the ghost slides his arms around _Dirk_ , and Jake slides his arms around _both_ of them, snuggling against them and the pillows and, fuck. 

It's -- 

It's not the thrilling sort of world-melting feeling he has when it's just him and Jake. It's not the breath-catching amazement he feels when Jake English looks at him like he's the only guy in the entire fucking world. It's not the absolute self-assured knowledge that _this_ place is the place he belongs, the place he'd always choose to be over anywhere else. 

But it isn't bad. 

The ghost is looking at him way too fondly, and his face is way too _close._ He lost his shades in some hallway or another, and Dirk's are all askew on his face. The ghost plucks them off him the way Jake always does, and Dirk is sure, absolutely sure that _now_ he's going to kiss him. But he doesn't. He just tosses his shades gently back on the couch, ducks his face down against Dirk's shoulder, and exhales long and slow, like he's been holding his breath for ages. 

Dirk is pretty sure the ghost gets more sleep that night than he does. What a twist. 

* 

It becomes a frequent ritual. They pick a spot downstairs, because for some reason, taking him to the bedroom proper doesn't feel right, yet. The ghost never presses it. They set up a pillow-and-blankets pile like they're trying to pretend at being trolls, or something. They press all up against one another, arms looping around other arms and bodies and just generally being embarrassingly tactile. Jake likes to sleep shirtless, and Dirk often catches the ghost running his fingers over the slope of his bare shoulders, down his back, over his arms. Maybe more, under the blankets. He swears he can hear them fooling around, sometimes. Jake isn't a quiet guy. 

But the thing is, he touches Dirk, too, just as often. BGD's fingers like to wander under his shirt, to trace curious circles on his chest. To walk his fingers over his stomach and play with the dusting of hair curled up around the elastic waistline at his abdomen, behavior that leaves Dirk hard and almost willing to initiate more himself, some nights. He tucks his face into Dirk's neck and shoulder just as often as he chooses Jake. Whenever either of them touches him, he squirms with delight exactly the way Jake does, but he's also like Dirk in that he never asks explicitly for more. 

He steals the odd kiss, sometimes. It doesn't take long for Dirk to start anticipating those moments in spite of himself. 

But it isn't an every night thing, either.

Sometimes he just disappears for days on end, doing his own thing, and eventually they both accept this as just a normal thing that Brain Ghost Dirk does and stop worrying they've fucked something up. He always comes back. He helps with their projects. Starts some of his own -- he's pretty damn good with technology, which isn't really a surprise, considering he has Dirk's technical skills and Jake's engineering instincts at the same time. He's also sure to make himself scarce when they have company, actual company, not lost or curious salamanders and shit. Other humans and the occassional Karkat. It isn't something they ask him to do, but that's at least in part because he never makes them. 

When Jake presses him on where he goes, he just shrugs and says he's dealing with the reality of actually existing in his own way. Which is fair, Dirk thinks. It's probably pretty overwhelming, overall. 

He starts making himself distinct in other ways. Starts wearing his hair down. Talks about maybe getting some more tattoos. Jake teases him about it. Dirk tries to respect the attempt to form a definitive identity. Like -- it makes sense, right? No one wants to just be a discount Dirk forever. 

But, weirdly, he's good natured about it. Self deprecating, sure, but that's just a core part of being part Strider. Nothing personal. 

And Dirk likes him. 

Doesn't love him. Not even close. He isn't sure he's capable of loving anyone else the way he loves Jake. But BGD seems to know that, and damn sure never asks for more than he seems to know Dirk is able to give. Or Jake, for that matter.

"BGD?" Jake asks, the first time Dirk says it out loud. "Dirk, really? That doesn't even save any time." 

"Look," Dirk says, but he doesn't have anything to follow it up with, so he just stands there looking nebulously embarrassed. 

"I like it," BGD says, and that's that. Dirk makes a conscious effor to stop thinking of him as just _the ghost._

Catches himself thinking about when they might finally invite the guy upstairs with something almost like anticipation. Huh. 

* 

In the end, he can't bring himself to do it. Jake probably would, but whenever he tries to float the idea, Dirk's brain panic stutters and he does a verbal flying catapult into a a pool of thinly veiled deflection. He just cannot willingly invite the dude up and invite the event that will change everything between them for good, no matter how increasingly interesting the idea becomes. No matter how much Jake is practically bursting at the seams with the desire to try it. No matter how softly and patiently BGD kisses him in the fucking cuddle pile. 

Luckily, the ghost is part Jake, and his patience isn't limitless, after all. 

Dirk and Jake are upstairs, together but just kinda doing their own thing, when there is a fucking actual _knock_ on their door, polite as you please. Jake lifts his head off Dirk's chest and Dirk's fingers stop doing whatever embarrassing shit they'd been doing in his hair. They put their phones down. Jake's brows furrow. 

"Who's there?" he asks, because neither of them can fathom anyone they know _knocking_ , except maybe Jane, and if she were here she'd have sent a god damn courtesy text. 

"Uh. Me?" BGD sounds weirdly nervous, voice wavering through the door, and the little catch in his voice gives his intentions away. Dirk's stomach flutters. 

Jake, meanwhile, just laughs. "Come in, you friggin nerd," he calls, and suddenly he's grinning ear to ear. 

The door opens. BGD's hair is down, curling up around his ears, and he isn't wearing the shades at all, which -- damn. His eyes dart nervously into the room. Dirk never, ever wants to look that fucking vulnerable. Probably already has, at least for Jake. Can admit the appeal of it, being on this end of the spectacle. "Hey," he says. "Thought I'd like, I don't know. Drop in uninvited, I guess. Yeah. Pretty cool of me, right?" 

It's so fucking awkward Dirk wants to die, but Jake doesn't seem to notice. He's still grinning, in fact. "You _never_ come in here like this," he says. Obtuse motherfucker. "Well, come on! We've got room. Uh. Right?" He cranes his neck over to look at Dirk, grin evaporated. "Do we, Dirk?" 

Maybe not that obtuse, after all. 

"Uh," Dirk says. Jake tilts his head. "I mean, yeah. Sure." What else is he supposed to say? This has been a long time coming, right? Jake studies his face, a little concerned wrinkle forming between his brows. "Obviously. This bed takes up half the fucking surface area of this bedroom, I think that counts as having room, man." 

"See?" Jake turns back to BGD. "There you have it, from the master of spatial awareness himself." 

"Very astute," BGD agrees, solemn as you please. He edges closer. "So, just, uh..." 

"God damn it," Dirk groans. "Stop being so fucking awkward and get in here if you're going to, Jesus Christ." 

BGD grins at him, nods, and climbs in as directed -- directly into Jake's arms, because Jake has squirmed a bit away and is holding them out, expectantly. Dirk fidgets a little beside them. How the fuck is this going to work? He sure doesn't know. Maybe they'll just cuddle all night with the odd accidental-but-not-really groping incident thrown in now and then like they do downstairs. 

But probably not. 

BGD flops over Jake's body beside him, and Jake curls his arms around him and rubs little circles into his back, smiling faintly. His face is so damn _gentle_ , Dirk's heart squeezes just looking at him. And for his own part, BGD seems content with this. His eyes flutter closed. He has a cheek pillowed on one of Jake's shoulders. Dirk scoots over a bit further to give them space, or something, whatever, trying to just _be cool,_ and BGD's eyes flicker back open at the movement. He lifts his chin and looks at Dirk, and shifts to free one arm, which he then immediately slides toward Dirk. His fingers find Dirk's and curl up with them. 

It actually makes him feel a little better. Huh. 

Eventually, Jake's fingers still against BGD's back, slide down and then up under his shirt, tracing patterns against the bare skin of his back beneath the cloth. "Do you know," Jake sighs, voice dreamlike, "How many times I've thought about this? Run this through the old hat stand?" BGD turns his face back into Jake's shoulder, and Dirk can see his shoulders go all strangely tense. 

"I literally do, man," BGD says. Jake snickers, softly. 

"Right. Shit." 

Dirk has no fucking idea what he should do with his own hands, here. Sit on them? Fuck. He feels vaguely like he's a sixteen year old virgin again, with no idea what he should or could be doing or saying, aware only of the sense of _want_ without any sort of mental roadmap between his that state and the presumed physical fulfillment on the other side of this already hellishly confusing encounter. He forces himself to keep looking at them, because this isn't going to _unhappen_ , and he needs to accept that this is real. 

BGD's fingers untangle themselves from his and slide up to catch his wrist, instead. Dirk feels his eyebrows go up in silent inquiry. BGD sits up, and Jake's hands stop their busy wandering, resting on his sides just above his waist. 

"Just to be clear," BGD says, ducking his head. "You know what I want, right?" 

"I mean, I _hope_ so?" Jake says, blinking up at him. But BGD is looking, for some reason, directly at Dirk.

"I... well. I'm guessing probably a little more than a couple stolen kisses in the scrum yard," Dirk says, trying for levity. BGD smirks. Jake makes an admonishing sound.

"Yeah, but here's the thing. I want _both_ of you. And I want both of you to be into it. If you're not, this isn't gonna work. And that's -- fine, you know? That'd be fine. I can leave. I can go back downstairs and pretend this shit never happened, if this is too soon, or too much, or, I don't know." A few more embarrassing emotions flash across his face, and he ends it with a little shrug. "I mean, I want this. Don't get me wrong. There's some things about actually existing I haven't experienced yet that I'd very much like to try out." 

Jake squirms a little beneath him, his eyes sparking with amusement. "Christ," he says. "You're just like him. Talking too damn much about things that ought to be simple!" 

"God damn it," Dirk mutters. "Jake, fucking please." 

"You remember our first time," Jake shoots back, amusement dripping off every word. "Though I don't remember you nattering on about it _quite_ this much, before..." 

"Maybe because _your_ goddamn consent to what was going on was obvious!" 

BGD nods, solemnly. Jake sighs. 

"Is this okay, Dirk?" 

And now he has two pairs of eyes staring beseechingly at him, and, fuck. 

"You want us both," he says. BGD nods. "All right. How?" 

"What do you mean, how?" 

"I mean, how exactly do you want us, man?" He's being purposely belligerent, he thinks, in this uncool, vindictive way, but he can't make himself stop. 

Jake's eyes flicker back to BGD, focusing intently.

"Uh." BGD hesitates, the vague specter of panic suddenly clouding his expression. "Is that a trick question?" 

"You cannot tell me you've never fucking thought about it, come on." 

"Actually, yeah," Jake says, speaking in this tone that's full of wonder, like he hadn't even considered this problem, before. "I didn't even think about this. What the deuces _would_ you prefer? You might not be exactly like Dirk, huh? Shit. I have to practically beg him for all sorts of --" 

"Jake, god damn it!" 

"What! You know perfectly gosh darned well it's true, what's the point in denying it now?" 

BGD is just shaking his head, shoulders shaking in silent laughter. Dirk glares at them both. Jake's jaw bulges defiantly. 

"Listen," BGD says. "I'm up for anything. Or down for anything. It doesn't matter. I just want..." he tilts his head, like he can't quite find the words. "I want it to be good for all of us. Which sounds trite, but it's true. I've got all kinds of preferences and desires and tendencies wrestling around with each other in here, if I'm being honest, and the only coherent thing it all culminates into is this persistent desire to be sure you're both..." he shrugs. "Satisfied? Whatever that takes." 

"I can tell you exactly what it takes for Dirk," Jake says. Dirk covers his face with his hands. "And don't mind him," Jake continues, cheerful as anything. "He's fine once you get him to stop thinking so damn hard about everything, I swear." 

"Right. Uh, Dirk?" BGD asks, softly. 

"I'm fine," Dirk says into his palms. Jake snorts. "Also, I'm pretty sure Jake wants you to fuck him," Dirk says, muffled into his palms, mind spinning viciously through all the other ways he's probably been inadequate in the past that this fresh new copy of him can just go ahead and magically make up for. 

"Oh," BGD says. He sounds a little mystified. 

"Now, just a -- hold your horses there, mister, just who said that? Maybe I want him to fuck _you_ for me, Strider, did you think of that?" 

" _Oh,_ " BGD says again, while Dirk wishes he could sink through the floor and disappear. "Maybe we should start a little slower than that," BGD says, the sole voice of reason in an increasingly idiotic storm. Dirk snorts against his palms and then drops them helplessly onto his thighs. This is absurd. It has to end, or he's going to die. 

"I think we both know what's really up, here," he says, somehow managing to project a level of calm he in no way feels. "Jake wants a show. Right? So come here." 

He isn't sure what's more gratifying: Jake's sharp little intake of breath, or the way BGD's eyes widen and he crawls over _immediately_ , letting Jake's hands slide off him like nothing. He can't imagine any iteration of himself ever willingly crawling out of Jake English's lap, ever, but here they are, and he did that for _him_ , and -- he's about to make out with a guy who looks exactly like him, isn't he? 

Yeah. Sure fucking is. More than make out with, probably.

"Listen," he says, while BDG squirms in close, practically breathing on his face. "I don't want to be thinking a single coherent thought during or after this." Dirk put his hands on BGD's shoulders. "Not a single one. So what I'm saying is, you'd better kiss me like you're fucking drowning, and I'm the only air left on earth." Jake makes another gratifying little sound at this, but so does BGD, and before he can think better of it Dirk shuts his eyes and presses and parts his lips against the ghost's. 

It's nothing at all like kissing Jake. BGD is way too hesitant, too careful, too caught up in his own head to just let go and delight in it --and demand more -- the way Jake does. Jake is always taking the lead five seconds in some way or another, like it or not. Not so here. Dirk does his best to navigate them, focusing in on the way he can hear Jake rumbling out some truly choice oaths. Yeah, English, you'd better fucking enjoy it. 

Pretty soon he has BGD up in his lap, fingers in his hair, little moans escaping into his mouth. He never stops being aware of Jake, exactly, but he does let himself think for a moment that this new, less urgent kind of kissing isn't bad. BGD has enough Jake in his psyche to find the hem of Dirk's tank top and push it roughly upward. His fingers slide up over Dirk's skin, tracing a path over his stomach, around his sides, up his back. 

"You oughta take it off him," Jake suggests, sounding more than a little breathless. BGD laughs into Dirk's mouth, and then breaks off, leaning back. He's breathing hard, too. Shit, they all are. "Take yours off, too," Jake goes on, grinning. "Let's all just take our clothes off, how about that! The sooner the better." 

"And Dirk likes to call me greedy," BGD says, eyebrows climbing. Dirk grabs a handful of his shirt, neatly and mercifully cutting off the embarrassing banter. He yanks it up, and BGD lifts his arms and lets him take it off him, and then repays the favor in kind. Jake makes a pleased little noise, Dirk tilts his embarrassing doppleganger's chin roughly back up, and they start a fresh new round of sloppy makeouts, wandering hands edition. Again, it's nothing like touching Jake. BGD's build is exactly like his, which is to say, narrow where Jake is broad, all sharp bones where Jake is layered in muscle. 

The ghost pulls back, dips his head down, and kisses down the side of Dirk's face. Drags his teeth against the thin, sharp cord of muscle down his throat. "God," Jake whispers, watching. "That's right," he encourages them. "Keep that up, that is _some sight,_ " he's saying, while Dirk swallows heavily and threads his fingers tightly into a familiar head of hair. The bed creaks with Jake's crawling movement. Dirk feels him snuggle in behind him, slotting himself between Dirk and the headboard.

Apparently no longer content with just watching, Jake reaches out and wraps his arms around Dirk, who makes a muffled surprised sound, tilting his head further back. He loves the way Jake's arms feel around him -- always has. Jake pulls Dirk a few inches backward, away from BGD and into his waiting lap. BGD's eyes snap open, Dirk lets out a surprised grunt, and then Jake is pressing him insistently back against his very obvious and very gratifying hard on. Dirk laughs, rocking his ass back against it. There are far too many layers of clothing between them. Fucking tragic. BGD watches them, looking all bereft there on his knees.

"I'm not sure how much you have in common with him," Jake says, "But when you're dealing with Dirk, you've got to make sure you don't neglect these." 

And before Dirk can ask him just what the fuck he's talking about, his hands slide up Dirk's sides and around front, and this thumbs glide purposefully over his nipples. Oh. _Those._ Dirk squirms back harder against him, his own arousal forming an obvious line in his pants. Jake rolls his thumbs gently around them, over them, around, over, and then takes one between this thumb and finger and pinches, hard. Dirk makes a truly humiliating little mewling sound and tilts his chin up, the back of his head sliding over Jake's shoulder.

"See?" Jake says, pressing a wet kiss to the side of Dirk's face. "He _loves_ when you mess with these, you see what I mean?" 

"Yeah," BGD says, and it's so fucking weird, still, the guy still speaks with Dirk's own fucking voice, but Jake is still expertly teasing his god damn nipples and he just does not want to ruin that by opening his eyes and dealing with the fact that there's a third party involved in this who also looks exactly like him. He breathes heavily, hears the mattress creak while BGD presumably re-orients himself, and then there's an extra pair of hands resting on his hip bones. Then these hands are sliding up, thumbs turning little circles over his jutting ribs. "So if I did this," BGD says, and there's this puff of warm air against Dirk's chest when he speaks, and then the unmistakably exquisite sensation of a warm, wet tongue circling one nipple, dragging over it, around, flicking against him in unpredictable, teasing little patterns. 

Dirk makes a truly pathetic sound, eyes popping open. Jake laughs, breathless, encouraging. "You've got to nibble on him a bit," Jake suggests, and BGD happily obliges, his teeth scraping over Dirk's sensitive skin. Jesus. Shit. 

"Fuck," Dirk moans aloud, helpless. 

"See? You've got him now," Jake says, hooking his arms under Dirk's shoulders. He holds him there in place while the other guy practices his technique on him, crawling back into Dirk's lap, sandwiching Dirk in between them. It shouldn't feel this good, but thank fucking god it does. The better it feels, the easier it is not to think about what's happening. Dirk's hips squirm, trying to keep his ass pressed firmly against Jake but also simultaneously get some friction going in front, too. Jake kisses the back of his neck, just under his hairline, and around to nuzzle knowingly in his ear. "You're so damn hot," he whispers, taking his earlobe between his teeth. Dirk grunts a wordless, meaningless reply. "This isn't so bad, now, is it, Dirk?" 

He shakes his head. Jake chuckles, pleased as punch. He kisses over the length of Dirk's shoulder, leaving wet spots as he goes. 

"To tell it true, though, I think we can do even better," Jake says. "Can't we, Brain Ghost Dirk?" 

"Maybe," BGD says, breathlessly, pressing another kiss against one of Dirk's oversensitive nipples. Dirk twitches toward the stimulation, trying not to think. Jake's arms wrap back around Dirk's middle and his hands slide purposefully down his stomach, down and down until his thumbs hook in the elastic waistband of his pajama bottoms. He pulls the band suggestively downward. "God," BGD says, and Dirk barely recognizes his own voice on BGD's lips, it's so damn thick. _Affected._ He shivers, his own hands covering Jake's wrists. He lifts his ass so Jake can maneuver his pants down, and when his dick finally bounces free he pulls one of Jake's hands insistently toward it, breathing hard. Jake indulges him, palming him with practiced ease, pumping his length in long, lazy pulls. 

"Shit," BGD whispers, voice strained. "Is this -- is this really okay?" 

"I dunno," Jake says, still working Dirk with his all too practiced grip. "Is this okay, Dirk?" 

"Yeah," Dirk rasps, hips stuttering forward, almost out of his control. "Yeah, it's -- Just don't fucking stop, Jake, please don't. Don't stop. Jake, fuck, keep going, _fuck_ , I, ah." Jake tightens his grip on him. Dirk devolves into a mumbling wash of nonsense.

"I want to..." BGD says, trailing off suspiciously, but Dirk is too into this to press the matter, and anyway, Jake is taking care of it. 

"God, yes, do that," Jake says, and he sounds so eager Dirk is _sure_ BGD must be suggesting something to do with _Jake_ , but. Fuck. Oh, fuck no. Lips on his skin, kissing down his stomach. A wet circle around his navel. Dirk lets out a shocked honest to god little _yelp_ , snaps his chin forward, and -- Yeah. There it is. BGD has his eyes closed in blissful oblivion, and his lips are wrapped around the head of Dirk's straining dick. _There's_ a sight he can never unsee. 

But he can't deny the way it feels, which is fucking incredible. He groans with it, floating in it, body trembling. Jake switches to palming his balls, instead. It's too much. BGD's mouth slides further down his length, tongue swirling like he's practiced this every day of his life, and it is way too god damned fucking much. "Yeah," Jake is saying, whispering, chanting like a mantra. "Yeah, oh, shit, yeah, that looks so good, does that feel good, Dirk? Tell me how that feels, will you?" 

"So fucking good," Dirk says, shutting his eyes and pushing the panicked thoughts out. Who cares. It feels amazing. Jake loves this. The other guy presumably does, too. It feels _fucking amazing._ Jake's dick is burning a warm brand into his ass. "Jake," he manages in an impressively authoritative tone, "take your fucking pants off, come on." Or maybe he's just whining. Hard to say. BGD hums something that might be agreement, and the feeling of it is just -- _fuck._

Jake laughs into his ear. "Impatient," he reprimands. 

"Maybe I just want you to fuck me _before_ I fucking come," Dirk growls, and down below, BGD moans in something like startled pleasure around his dick. Fuck. He is already close, and they've barely just started this -- whatever this is. 

Jake wiggles behind him, kinda underneath him, too, working his pants down over his hips and down his legs. Dirk lifts himself up and Jake kicks his pants the rest of the way off, and then he leans way back to open and rummage around in a drawer by the bed. BGD lifts his mouth off Dirk long enough to ask "Everything all right?" in this obscenely raspy voice that is probably exactly the way Dirk sounds when he's been busy sucking Jake's cock, instead. Dirk's hips swing back up and he makes a horribly desperate sound. 

"No, hey, don't stop," he pleads. He feels fingers on him, the pad of a thumb sliding over the slit at the tip of him. He whimpers. 

Meanwhile, Jake find what he's after and pulls Dirk tighter against him, knees parting wide to either side of him. Dirk lifts his ass and Jake's fingers slide purposefully between his cheeks, slathering thick, cool greasy shit goddamn everywhere. "You better listen to him," Jake says, addressing the ghost. "You can't let up for a minute, with Dirk." 

"Hah," BGD says, more just a sound than any coherent communication, and Dirk gasps as the wet heat of his mouth slides back down around him, working him harder than before, sucking eagerly. The lube tube makes a truly comical squelching sound, and Jake snickers into Dirk's ear as he works his slippery fingers into him one by one, coaxing him open. Jake always moves a little faster than he should, here. Dirk clenches his jaw, pressing back onto his fingers, focusing on the pleasure, the thrill of the fact that _Jake English_ has his fingers in his ass, right now. Oh, and he's also kind of sort of sucking his own dick. He would laugh, but he's too fucked up, he's fucked up, he's so fucked up, it feels _good._

"Are you ready for it, Dirk?" Jake asks, sliding them in and out, scissoring them open in rhythm. Dirk moans incoherently and hopes it sounds like it's the assent it's meant to be. "God, but you're so damn handsome, like this. Just who the hell ever gave you permission to be this _perfect?_ Answer me that, Strider." 

"Jake," Dirk pants. He wants it to sound admonishing, but all he can manage is desperate. He looks down, and BGD's tongue curls purposefully around his cock, slides down the shaft, and begins to lick around and over his balls, instead. Dirk's hips can't figure out if they want to go forward or back. 

"I love seeing this, seeing you like this." Jake pushes him up with one hand on the center of his back, and guides the head of his cock against Dirk's opening with the other. Dirk rolls his hips back himself, wanting it, aching for it. Jake's wet, slippery fingers scrabble for purchase on Dirk's hips, pulling him along, and BGD follows the movement with his mouth, providing not even a god damn second of mercy from the brain melting heat of it. Jake fills him up in one slow, smooth motion, sighing his pleasure into his ear. It's fucking exquisite. Wet heat around him on one end, Jake's demanding girth stretching him on the other, filling him, fuck, fuck, _fuck._

Dirk reaches one hand up to fist into Jake's hair, and the other down to grab the fucking ghost, because they're both so good, they are both so fucking good. Jake growls, wiping his hands impatiently on the sheets so he can get a better grip on him. This achieved, he sets about not so much fucking Dirk as forcing Dirk to fuck him, guiding his hips forward and back. Dirk is pretty sure his mouth is forming some truly embarrassing words, but it's all just a formless buzz in his ears because the only senses that matter to him right now are the ones being dually battered by Jake's messy, relentless thrusting and the careful ministrations of Brain Ghost Dirk's greedy mouth and busy tongue. 

He doesn't even bother to sound a warning -- he isn't really physically capable of that level of coherence -- and BGD grunts with surprise as Dirk shoots a truly toe-curling orgasm directly down his throat. Welcome to humanhood, he thinks, deliriously. Sometimes your boyfriend is going to be an inconsiderate asshole. Fuck, is he his boyfriend? What is this? He just shot a fucking load in his mouth, so they're probably official now, right? He swallows a hysterical laugh. He can't fucking move. His body is emulating his shrinking dick -- going totally boneless and floppy. 

Jake slaps his leg. Dirk makes a thin little protest sound. Brain Ghost Dirk is licking his lips, tracing gentle fingers over Dirk's overstimulated cock like he's handling some priceless artifact. Dirk wheezes out a desperate laugh, slumping back against Jake, who slaps his other thigh even harder. BGD jumps. Dirk grunts. Right. Jake hasn't finished, yet.

"Pull him up," Jake demands, breathless. The ghost is quick to comply, grabbing Dirk under his arms, pulling him forward, down. "Just, pull him toward you, so I can -- yeah, yes, _yes_ , that's the ticket, that's the fucking stuff, that's, fuck, just hold it, hold him, just like that," Jake is babbling on his knees, fingers digging into Dirk's hips, well and truly fucking him, now, hard and fast. BGD his has fingers in his hair, touching him, stroking down his neck, his shoulders, murmuring encouragements. Dirk clings to him, because what else is he supposed to do? He's completely fucking lost it. He's pretty sure he's just gasping _god_ , _yes_ and _fuck me_ over and over, like the world's most repetitive prayer. Or is that the ghost?

Jake's moans come faster, louder, the bed rocks with the force of it. Dirk's breathing is ragged and uneven, he's panting like a fucking animal, with the odd desperate little groan choking out of him when Jake's cock hits somewhere particularly oversensitive. Fuck it. He loves it. Loves the overwhelming, almost painful overstimulation. Always has. He's trembling, moaning, and Brain Ghost Dirk is watching all of this with wide, remarkably pretty eyes. No, fuck. Don't think that. They're his eyes. It's his _face._ They have the same, fucking, _god._ Jake. Fuck. Jake, fuck, fuck, _fuck._

The ghost's fingers tilt his chin up. Dirk opens unfocused, bleary eyes. Jake's thrusts slow down, which is unusual, for him -- he's usually full steam until the end, but, fuck, he can't think. Jake presses his chest tight against Dirk's back, and Dirk watches BGD lean forward over his shoulder and the noises, god, they leave no doubt. Jake and the ghost are kissing messily, noisily, the sounds wet and admittedly extremely fucking hot. Dirk pants between them, doing his best to move his body in time with Jake's long, sweet strokes. 

"He can do more," he hears Jake murmur above him. "Can't you, Dirk?" 

"What," Dirk pants. "I -- what?" _Just tell me what to do._

"You want to do more. Don't you?" 

"Just -- _ah._ Tell me, what, you _want._ " 

"I want you to do something for Brain Ghost Dirk," Jake says, thumbs moving over Dirk's shoulders, digging into the back of his neck. His hips move up, in, out, never stopping, just carrying on a gentler rhythm. One Dirk can almost think through, if he really puts some fucking effort in. 

Fuck it, he thinks, hazily. He flicks his eyes back up to the ghost's. "What do you want," he rasps. 

"I," BGD says, stupidly, his own orange eyes open wide, pupils blown. He reaches down to stroke Dirk's face, so fucking gentle. "Anything? I don't... I mean, holy shit." 

"How about you put your pretty mouth to work, this time?" Jake suggests. "Only seems fair, doesn't it, Dirk? You like that idea, right?" 

As though he doesn't know perfectly well Dirk will do fucking anything he asks. Especially like this. Especially if he never, ever stops. 

BGD is more hesitant. "You don't have to do anything," he says.

"Shut up," Dirk hisses at him. He lifts his chin. Balances himself on his elbows. "Shut the fuck up and get up here before I," he cuts his own words off with a garbled groan. Jake makes a pleased sound, his hands grip Dirk's shoulders hard, and he starts to quicken his pace again. "Before, I change my _mind_ ," Dirk pants the words out, squeezing his eyes shut, focusing everything on the sensation, on the _sound._ Jake's grunts of animal effort are fucking exquisite. Dirk could just -- drown in the sound of Jake English's pleasure. He'll be watching as much as he can of this from back there, Dirk is sure, so -- fuck it. Let's give him another show. 

Soft lips against his prompt his eyes to fly back open, wide with shock. BGD's eyes are closed, his lashes are so long, his freckles are -- he's -- he's kissing him, lips parting, shy but eager, which is fucking hilarious because Jake is _destroying_ him on the other side and his brain cannot _handle_ this dual treatment. He gives up. He kisses back. He thinks he feels Jake slow down, and then start again, even harder. Kissing Brain Ghost Dirk is nothing like what he'd imagine kissing _himself_ would be like, and that -- helps, actually. They're fucking killing him. He tries to say so, whimpering garbled nonsense into BGD's busy mouth. The ghost pulls back. 

"You'll be all right," he says, like he understood what Dirk was trying to say, after all. 

Dirk squeezes his eyes shut and fists his fingers in the sheets and tries his best not to scream or beg or both. Oh, god. Oh, fuck. They're killing him. "Let me," he pants. Jake wants this. Does he want this? He tries not to think too hard about how they probably have the same fucking dick. It's easy, because he can barely think at all. "Just let me, god damn you, let me do it." So much for not begging. The ghost wiggles off the last bits of his clothing, and yes, there, on his knees, good, god, there, yes, _finally._

He's long, but it's not as thick as Jake is, and anyway, Dirk hasn't had an appreciable gag reflex in years. The second he can, Dirk takes him in like he's been waiting his whole damn life for the opportunity. BGD makes a strangled sound, his fingers tightening reflexively in Dirk's hair. _Yeah,_ Dirk thinks, in a hot bolt of sharp clarity, half vicious and half triumphant. _I'm good at this, asshole, you'd better get ready._

And then he lets the sensation of it all carry him off. Jake inside him, moaning, hitting that same quivering, exhausted yet somehow still eager spot over and over and _over,_ until Dirk can't figure out if his legs are still holding him up or not. Jake's fingers curl on his shoulders with a bruising grip. Brain Ghost Dirk and his brain ghost dick, he thinks hysterically, and if his mouth wasn't so busy servicing the thing he'd laugh at his own inescapable bullshit. But he is, and it's twitching eagerly in his mouth, skin and salt against his tongue and pushing deeper. Jake pushes him down by the back of the neck, he knows _exactly_ what he is doing, and BGD moans and flutters his fingers. Yeah. That guy has no fucking clue what he's doing, he's just chasing what feels good. Dirk flares his nostrils and swallows around the cock working its way down his throat, and Jake snaps his hips behind him. God damn it, Jake. God, _yes_ , Jake. Yes, yes, _yes._

He's vaguely aware of Jake gasping his name, and then Jake pulls him back, buries his entire length in him, and lets loose a bunch of garbled incoherent bullshit the way he always does when he comes. Dirk trembles on his elbows, and Jake gives his ass a sharp, playful slap. Dirk makes a muffled, not exactly protesting sort of sound. "Mother _mercy_ ," Jake sighs, sounding pleased as anything. "Oh, fuck, Dirk, are you serious, you're so perfect, you can't be real." Dirk moans around BGD's cock, and the ghost is into it, hips rocking, making all kinds of amazing sounds. He's still touching Dirk's face, his hair, so fucking gentle. Dirk has no idea what the fuck to do with gentle. Without Jake pushing on his neck and shoulders he can lift himself up, let himself breathe, get back to being proactive with his tongue. 

He has a hilarious, delirious moment where he wonders if the ghost even _can_ come, about ten seconds before BGD answers the question definitively in the positive. _Brain ghost jizz,_ Dirk thinks, and then he _does_ laugh, a snorting, choking type of laugh that is not at all attractive or dignified. Spit dribbles down his chin, among other things. He's so fucking done. God, he is so fucking _done._ His arms give out, his legs give up. He collapses down on his stomach, willing rational thought to stay away just a little bit longer. He's dead. Holy fuck. 

Jesus shit. He's fucking dead. 

Some time passes. Some bodies move around on the bed. Someone runs their fingers through his hair, brushing sweat-slick strands away from his face. Someone kisses his forehead, his temple, down the side of his face, whispers _you're so fucking perfect_ in his ear in his own voice, but softer. More sincere than Dirk can ever stand to be. He twitches, because it's the only acknowledgement he has in him. Murmured voices. Something cool and wet, wiping his face. His thighs. If he were even one percent more aware, he'd be dying of shame, but he's not, so it just feels... nice. Smooth sheets. Warm arms around him. Someone's breath nearby, tickling past the frazzled hair curled over his ears. Their voices, back and forth, murmuring things to one another about each other. About him. 

He comes back to himself, eventually, long after even those sounds taper off. Begins to understand his situation. Brain Ghost Dirk is sprawled over his chest and holding him tight, possessive as you please, his hair tickling under Dirk's chin. Jake is on his side beside them, one leg tangled with one of BGD's, one arm thrown over them both, and it's his breathing Dirk can feel on his face. Dirk turns his head -- and startles, because Jake's eyes are only half closed. They blink the rest of the way open as he realizes Dirk is awake. Jake smiles. 

"Back with us, now?" he says, softly. 

"Uh, yeah. Sorry." 

Jake scoots forward, and Dirk tilts his jaw because he knows what he wants, and they kiss, soft and sweet. "No apologies," Jake says, when they pull apart. "You were great, Dirk. You were really fucking great. Just -- spectacular, tonight. And every night! But, boy fucking howdy, tonight..." 

Dirk's eyes slide away. He feels his lips twitch into a lopsided smile. He can't help it -- he loves making Jake happy. "Must have liked the show, then." 

"Liked every damn bit of everything, in fact. And so did he." Jake's eyes flicker toward the ghost, who is snoring softly. Dirk wonders if he snores, too. "Gave him a bit of a scare, there, but I explained it all. No worries." 

"Cool," Dirk says, swallowing. His throat is definitely sore, and he's acutely aware that it's not because of anything Jake's dick was doing. His heart thuds in his chest. 

"Did you like it?" Jake asks, finally. 

"Yeah," Dirk says, without having to consider for very much time at all. "Yeah. I kinda really fuckin' did, actually." 

Jake's grin is absolutely electric. He squeezes them both tighter against him. 

"God, I'm glad," he murmurs, and Dirk's own exhaustion starts creeping back over him, warm and seductive. They lapse into quiet, into breathing, and sleep. 

* 

When he wakes up, the other two are still conked right out, so Dirk takes the opportunity to wriggle out of bed alone and take the longest, hottest, and most confused shower of his life. 

It wasn't bad. It was pretty good, in fact. Would he do it again? Yeah. Does he want to do that every time? No. Does he want to try it with just him and his brain ghost doppleganger? Not -- not really. Would he be okay if it were just Jake and BGD? No way. In fact, the last thought irritates him so much he ends his shower on it, suddenly worried beyond all rational measure that they're going to wake up and initiate some hot morning makeouts without him. There are rules, man. Rules. 

But they're still just asleep. Cuddled up together, sure, but asleep. Dirk considers crawling back into bed with them, but the sheets are rumpled and sweaty and he just fucking showered, so he winces as the thought. 

So this is how Jake finds him when he finally blinks his gorgeous eyes open: sitting nearby, chin cradled in his hands, hair down, eyes half-closed. Just watching, like some magnificent creeper, except Jake doesn't seem to mind, because their eyes meet and Jake just smiles, sleepy and satisfied. BGD mutters something inaudible, twitching in his sleep. 

"You all right, there, Strider?" Jake asks, and Dirk lifts his head and nods. 

"Pretty fuckin' all right, man," he says. 

The way Jake's smile widens at this ties a weary knot in Dirk's middle. He can't do shit when faced with the splendor of Jake English's magnificent dimples except stare stupidly and admire them. Never could. Jake shifts a little, and the ghost makes a soft questioning sound, but Jake feathers his fingers through his autumn-gold hair and soothes him back to sleep with hardly any effort at all. Dirk watches this impassively. Wonders how often Jake has done that exact same thing to him, and he never knew. His feelings tangle up inside him, and he can't even tell what side of the positive-negative divide they're coming out on, anymore. 

"He isn't so bad, is he?" Jake says, and Dirk shrugs one shoulder, trying to play it cool. 

"I don't... hate him," Dirk says, and Jake laughs, softly, mindful of the sleeping ghost. Dirk wonders if he'd even be sleeping now if they hadn't taught him how to entertain the idea in the first place. 

"I should _hope_ not, considering the shenanigans we just got up to," Jake says. He's still smiling. Relaxed. Good. "I think I'd venture to say that you probably like him quite a bit, Dirk. Criminy, I wish you could have seen..." his eyes actually unfocus, a bit. Dirk coughs, heat climbing up his cheeks. God, he hates blushing. Jake is a pretty blusher; his gorgeous deep brown skin just glows with a reddish undercurrent, all irrisistable and shit. Dirk just turns into a gross blotchy mess, and he knows it. 

He drops his eyes and coughs again. "I mean. I saw a decent bit. Pretty up close and personal." 

Jake waves his free hand dismissively. "You damn well know what I mean. I wish you could just see how amazing you are. I could watch you work like that all day. All night. All friggin' eternity, I'm telling you, I'd never get tired of it. And funny enough, I don't think this guy would, either." 

Dirk's mind skips neatly over that. They can look closer at that later. Right now, it's still too much. Which is hilarious, because -- fuck. 

"So. Now that the heat of the moment's worn off, some, it's not... weird?" Dirk purposely refuses to examine these words, either. Is _he_ worried about this? After some of the shit he and Jake have done in the private rooms behind that workshop? Yeah fucking right. 

"I liked it," Jake says, simply. Dirk snorts. 

"So -- yeah, then. It's weird, but who cares." 

"Do you?" 

"Do I _care?_ " 

"About how weird it is," Jake grants him the unnecessary clarification, exhibiting all the patience of a saint. 

Dirk is quiet, for a moment. Does he? Does he care about that, or is he just looking for something reasonably negative to hang some post-coital jealousy on? Hah. Take that, Jane. In your face, Roxy. Dirk Strider isn't _completely_ incapable of exercising a little bit of self awareness, after all. 

"No, I don't think I care about that." _What I care about is just you deciding you like that other me better._ Can't quite make himself say that out loud. Jake studies him. 

"So, you're not upset?" 

"Do I seem upset?" 

"Truthfully? A little bit. But even if you didn't, that doesn't always mean you're not, and you damn well know it." 

"Well -- yeah. Okay." He pauses. "I'm all right, I think. Just need some time to adjust to this shit, probably." 

"Hmm." 

"I have to ask, though." 

"Ask what?" 

"This isn't, like. The new normal, is it?" 

Jake's brows wrinkle together. "What do you mean?" 

"I mean..." Dirk gestures aimlessly. "It isn't always going to be you and me _and_ him, right? There's gonna be just some good old fashion you and me now and then, still." 

"Obviously, yes," Jake grins. "I've told you before, Strider. I like you far too much to share you _all_ the time." 

"Okay," Dirk says, letting out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Thank God. I mean, good." 

"Brain Ghost Dirk will understand. I doubt we'd even have to explain it to him," Jake says, and his voice sounds a bit far away. "Anyway. You've been sitting there all on your lonesome long enough. Are you coming back to bed?" He holds a hand out over BGD's curled, sleeping body, eyes hopeful. 

Dirk heaves a long-suffering sigh. "I just showered," he pretty much whines, standing up. "God damn you, English." 

"I just _showered_ ," Jake mimics him, eyebrows waggling, voice pitched way too high to actually be Dirk. "Get your prancy ass over here, Strider, Jesus Christmas." Dirk walks around the bed, so he doesn't have to climb over them both to get where he wants to be, and the mattress sinks with their thrice-combined weight. He slides himself in behind Jake, pressing himself in good and tight, sandwiching Jake between him and the still snoring ghost. Jake wiggles between them in obvious pleasure. 

"Be honest," Dirk says into his ear, trying his best to make it sound the way he intends - light hearted, teasing. "How long have you fantasized about this?" 

"God," Jake breathes. "My whole friggin' life, if I have any of the sense god gave a goat." 

Dirk laughs. "Well," he says, wryly. "Fair enough."


	5. u boys cant hide ur secrets forever

He's laying on the couch. He's got Jake's legs under his ass, his head in BGD's lap, and some bullshit playing on the TV because he's been outvoted once again. His doppleganger's tastes run much closer to Jake's than his, the fucking traitor. They've got fresh bowls of popcorn and an absurd number of extra pillows, most of which are scattered on the floor, and they've been marathoning bad movies for something like, oh, a billion hours, now. Dirk's vision is pretty much permanently doubled, at this point. Only sheer stubbornness prevents him from passing out on the spot. They have a bet going for who the first one to cave will be, and it is damn well not going to be him.

His phone buzzes, and he nearly startles right off the fucking couch. 

He fumbles it a few times trying to unlock it, and when he opens his messages he flinches away from the text.

TG: holy shit  


Nope. No way.

TG: its true isnt it  
TG: i cant believe this  
TG: dirk it has been like fifty fucking hours since u last answered a text pick up ur fucking phone  


"Something the matter?" Jake asks, probably because he can see the expression on his face. 

"Roxy," Dirk replies, like that explains everything. 

"Oohh," Jake replies, because it kinda does.

TT: Yo.  
TG: holy shit hes alive!  
TT: Yeah. Alive and well, thanks. You can cancel the search and rescue, or whatever. Call off the dogs. Pack it all in, nothing to see here.  
TT: Uh. Anyway.  
TT: Is what true?  


"What... does she want?" Jake asks. 

"Fuck, man, I don't know. She's being all coy and shit." Typical Roxy. "She can't possibly know anything, so I'm trying not to freak out." 

BGD clears his throat. "I could go away for awhile," he says. "Throw them off the trail, or something." 

"Is that what you _want?_ " Dirk asks, and BGD sighs. His fingers feather into Dirk's hair, light against his scalp.

TG: youre totes avoiding me  
TG: one hundred percent no question about it   
TG: ive been getting p suspicious for awhile but id hoped it was just a series of increasingly unlikely coincidences   
TG: but nope  
TG: something is UP son   
TT: Me being busy doesn't mean I'm avoiding you.  


"Not particularly," BGD says. Dirk blinks furiously, trying to force the exhaustion blur out of his vision. He really shouldn't be bantering with Roxy without a full tank. 

"Then don't," Dirk says, a little sharply.

TG: pft  
TG: busy with what  
TG: playing battlebots with the hottest ass in the pacific?  
TG: ok actually i can see how that might be distracting  
TT: Good. Glad we could get that cleared up.  


"You know, Dirk, you should be careful. When you talk like that you almost give a guy the impression you like having him around." BGD's fingers haven't stopped moving through his hair. Dirk usually complains about hair... stuff. He must be more tired than he thought. He chances a look over the edge of his phone screen and he can see Jake peeking at them, glancing out of the corner of his eye. 

"I'm just saying, Roxy doesn't know shit. She's bluffing." 

TG: ok but look  
TG: just remember dirk  
TG: i always win eventually  
TG: if there IS something ill figure this out even if i gotta recruit jane on ur ass  
TG: harness all the investigative skills  
TG: u boys cant hide ur secrets forever  
TG: just ask dave and karkat ;)   
TT: Nah. I think I'll just go ahead and be the one person in our entire family content to leave them the fuck alone.   
TG: boring  


"Maybe not _yet,_ " BGD concedes. "But you know she's going to keep at this." 

"For like, all of fucking eternity, probably. So what is taking off for a few weeks really going to accomplish, man?" Dirk raises his eyebrows, flickering his gaze over BGD's face. The ghost is wearing this lopsided smile, one of Jake's expressions written on Dirk's face. It's still hard to look at for very long, so Dirk drops his eyes back to squint into the glare of his phone screen fast. 

"Nothing," he says. "You're right." 

"If she ever finds out about this..." Jake trails off, all morosely ominous.

"She'll kill us, probably, so we'd better make the most of whatever time we have left." He drops his phone to the floor. It buzzes a few more times. 

Jake unpauses the movie. "Guess so," he mutters. Dirk's phone buzzes twice more, and then Roxy gives up -- for now. 

And BGD just laughs, half to himself, fingers renewing their efforts in Dirk's hair. "I don't know. I have it on good authority I can actually be kind of charming? Maybe I can convince her to have mercy." 

"Fair point," Jake says, eyes riveted to the screen. "But I'm afraid you just don't know Roxy." 

"Yeah," Dirk says, closing his eyes. "We're fucking dead. But hey. It's been alright." The hair stroking thing actually feels pretty nice. Dirk's breathing evens out. He hears Jake make a _tsk_ sound. Feels one of his hands warm against his knee, squeezing. He can worry about Roxy later. He can worry about _all_ of it later. 

"You're going to make him lose the bet," Jake says. 

"Sure am," says the ghost, and Jake responds with an amused little snort. 

"His own darn fault for making it easy, I suppose."

"This is a conspiracy," Dirk mumbles, shifting his body, arranging himself between them. BGD makes a soothing sound. "Shit is downright... duplicitous," he adds, the words barely audible. And the ghost might be responding. Teasing him, probably. But he doesn't hear shit, because he's five seconds off from losing a bet. 

He thinks the retribution for that in this brave new epoch is probably going to be very interesting. 

He thinks that Roxy needs to mind her business, because _no one can ever know._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey that's it! I might put out some more works in this general universe later, because uhh well the ghost's charm has sure worked on ME, but that's all I got for now. Hope u all enjoyed, and thanks so much for reading. I don't respond to most comments I get, but I do read & appreciate every one, bless u all.
> 
> (I'm still on Tumblr ofc: [@landofsomethingsomething](http://landofsomethingsomething.tumblr.com))


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